


Virtually After

by AntlersandFangs, Celtic_Lass



Series: Virtually Faded Universe [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Divergence, Completed, Emma has been collecting LOTR elves..., F/M, Felassan revealed, Healing, Kids, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Reunions, Valor revealed, cuddle piles, happy ending!, major character deaths, shape shifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 70,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntlersandFangs/pseuds/AntlersandFangs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celtic_Lass/pseuds/Celtic_Lass
Summary: After they were torn and separated, they have finally found their ways back to each other.continuation of the Virtually Faded universe, highly recommend you read Virtually Faded, Virtually Torn, and Virtually Separated first.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Original Male Character, Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s), Glorfindel (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Virtually Faded Universe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1486343
Comments: 580
Kudos: 335





	1. Chapter 1

Damon felt the kids suddenly reach for him, the charms calling, hot, urgent. Help. He didn’t hesitate. He knew where they must have gone. Shitshitshit. He ran, shifting into a wolf to lend him speed as he raced towards the prison. 

His ears picked up sobbing… wailing. Em. Adrenaline raced through his veins, the sight of her attacking Solas with her magic burned into his brain. The kids. He found Rochelle and Rain standing in front of Em’s cell, their eyes wide, and Rochelle raised her hands in a ‘not my fault’ gesture as she stepped back as his claws skidded across the stone as he tried to halt. 

The kids! He righted himself and… found Emma practically buried under the children, the twins in her arms and she was sobbing into their hair as Gaelathe and Ash and Anthony curled around her. 

He carefully shifted back to his two legged form. Cautious, fearing for the kids safety. She wasn’t hiding her magic anymore and… oh gods, her aura… What had happened to her? It was shredded, tattered and mottled and scared, barely glowing anymore, dark and acidic instead of silver and ginger-chamomile. But… there, by Gaelathe’s yellow and the twins’ silver-pale greens, and even Ant’s gold-blue, the silver was… spreading.

“Oh Emti.” She… she had been alone. Alone and hurting and he had… he had kept her children from her… kept her isolated. He felt helpless as he shakily dropped to his knees in front of her and put his hand on her leg. 

She shuddered but didn’t look up, didn’t jerk away, just held the twins tightly to her. “Ir Abelas. Ir Abelas. Sathan…. Please… I- I can’t-“  _ donttakethempleasepleaseicantlosethemnotagainpleasepleaseimsorryimsorry  _ she sounded so broken.

“Em… I’m so, so sorry. I’m not going to take them from you. We’re not leaving you alone.” He swallowed, opened his magic so she could feel his own  _ protectfamilyI’msorrytogetherfamilylove _ . “Rochelle, hun, would you go get Danielle?”

“I’m already here, Papa.” Danielle said waveringly as she brushed by him and crawled onto the bed, curling around Emma’s back and pressing her face to Emma’s hair. “Hello, Mamae.”

Emma sobbed harder her shredded fea reaching, longing, scared. He heard Rochelle whisper something, and then move away, moments before Legolas inched past him and slid onto the bed, picking up Ant and Gaelathe so he could hold them as well as… his Naneth. 

Emma curled into her son, resting her head against his chest… and now that they were together… he saw it. He had Emma’s chin and mouth.

Footsteps alerted him to others… Del came into view, kneeling next to him and reaching out to soothe Emma’s hair away from her face. “Ai, paiste.” ‘Oh child’, quenya and gaelic. Her…  _ their _ ancestry in a phrase. 

Their family. 

  
  


Emma had passed out in exhausted tears surrounded by the kids… Damon could still see her aura, she wasn’t hiding… she was clinging to the kids, desperately. Desperate and longing and oh gods… how long had she been alone? She felt… ancient… Del ancient. Older even, more… scarred. Del was still bright and not as tired. 

But… his questions could wait. She was here, and hurting, and she needed her family. He carefully gathered up her limp, exhausted form, and had to choke back tears at the familiar feeling. How often had he carried her? He went to take her to her room, but… her room was boarded off, dusty and cut off from the life of Fenvhenan. No, she needed… heart. Home. Life. 

The tree. Legolas said he could breathe there. And gods she needed to breathe.

The kids followed him in a trail, like ducklings, Legolas and Del following in a procession of her family. Beth and Gimli joined them as they passed through the hallways, then Cass and Loghain. Her family. Solas… he could feel Solas still working through the memories he had regained, flares of emotion, horror, grief, revulsion, pain, sorrow… the assault was overwhelming even when muted.

He could not help his brother, but he could help his sister. He carried her to the tree and sat carefully, leaning his back against the tree and adjusting her so her head rested on his legs. The kids piled around, the adults too, Loghain looking at her with a heartbroken expression. Cass in pity and grief.

It felt unreal, like a dream that would slip away if he thought about it too hard. Emma was back. But broken. Six years. Six years for them… for her… ages. How many lifetimes? And she fought and scraped through it all… tore herself apart to get back to them… saved his life many times as Muninn. Gods, how many names did she have now? Muninn, Meddler, Emma, Miwen, EmTi, Naneth, Mamae, and those were just the ones he knew.

“She came back.” Cass whispered as she eased down onto her knees in the grass next to them. “When you called her. Like she sang.” 

“Howl to the moons for your love, sing to the stars for your heart. Through blood and bone, ashes and oaks, I’ll find wherever you are.” Damon said quietly. “Was part of my parent’s wedding vows.”

He felt a sudden flare of awareness… Solas. He tentatively sent a curl of question through their link, not wanting to send a thought while Solas’ mind was still… raw. Guilt… it was the first thing, but also desperation… he was coming… he wanted to see Emma.

( _ She’s sleeping. We’re under your tree.) _

There was a flash… green and raw, and Solas was there, standing rigidly, eyes brimming with tears at the sight of them all… the twins were curled into Emma’s side. 

“C’mon. There’s room for you.”

Solas shuddered and shook his head with a lightning burst of  _ guiltlossdon’tdeserveitselfloathing _ . “I- she will not want me.”

“We can figure that sh- stuff out later. Come sit with us and breathe.” Damon said softly. “There’s room between the kids.” 

Solas swallowed hard and his eyes flicked to Legolas, who was rubbing Emma’s back. “Legolas…  _ Little leaf _ , I- I’m sorry.”

Legolas’ head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. “Do  _ not _ call me that.” 

Solas closed his eyes in pain, but Del spoke firmly. “Legolas. Solas is your father.”

“That’s the wrong franchise. ‘I am your father’ belongs in a different-” Damon started, then what Del was saying caught up to him. “Wait, what?”

“No, he is not.” Legolas growled and Emma shifted slightly but remained asleep.

Solas’ shoulders fell in defeat and their link screamed heartbreak and self loathing. 

“Your Naneth… explained it poorly to me. A spirit of pride within a king, burned into the shape of her light and wolf, who would not remember her when she was younger than he was old.” Del paused. “She was half mad when she explained it to me.” 

Legolas looked at Del in shock then to Solas in disbelief. “But he-?”

Solas was crying. “Legolas, please… I’ll explain when…” he looked at the twins. “Later... Please.”

Legolas was silent for a long moment before jerking his chin in a familiar, sharp nod. “I will listen when you explain.”

It was not acceptance, but it was hope, and Damon felt Solas cling to it as he cautiously moved to sit close to, but not daring to touch, Emma. His eyes lit in green and… he gasped  _ horrordreadguiltshameheartbroken. _ “Emma, emma’lath, ma’lath, Mir nin. Ir abelas. Ma’da‘asha.” 

“Shh. that can come later.” Damon whispered, shoving his own questions aside to focus on his pack and family. “For now, breathe.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was Banal’ras and Abelas who brought out their meal to the tree… Emma still slept… deep, calm, peaceful breaths. Del had let Banal’ras out of the prison and had kept him away from Solas, but now… Solas didn’t flare in anger or betrayal at the sight of him. Instead his eyes were fixed on Emma.

“‘I am a wolf without a pack. No cubs, no den, no mate. How can I rest’.” Solas whispered brokenly. “How long since you have rested, ma’lath?”

“She said that right before terrifying the entire camp to prove you wrong.” Banal’ras said quietly as he laid out the simple meal. 

Solas looked at him with  _ griefapology? _ “Ma serannas, Ma’falon.” The words seem to hold… much more weight then a simple thanks. 

Banal’ras just smiled and bowed his head, handing a sandwich to each of the twins. “Ma'myathash, ma'ha'raj.”  _ My honor, my king. _

King? But more importantly… he had known Em… before. “How-“ Damon had to clear his throat from the weight of the question. “How long ago?” 

“The last alliance.” Del said quietly. “She faced down Gil’galad. And sang for Oropher.”

Damon sucked in a sharp breath. Oropher? Gil’galad? Emma’s notebook had held the theories the Tolkien world was connected but… “But that's… at least ten thousand years ago, probably more! Oropher was three thousand some odd years before the ring… Solas?”

Solas’ eyes closed and he nodded. “I was there, though that was not my name at the time.” 

“Solas… not to make light of a subject… but you are old as dirt.” And… apparently Emma was as well… nope! Not thinking about it right now.

Abelas frowned and suddenly Emma’s eyes opened. “Sorrow of the wise.” she blinked, then stiffened, her Aura flaring in panic.  _ Searchcan’tlosethemwhere _

“Emti, we’re all here, the kids, Babala, everyone.” Damon reassured her. “Legolas is even on the ground with you instead of the tree.” 

She glanced around frantically, then relaxed after a headcount. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “I buried you.”

“Didn’t take.” he said shakily before pulling her into a hug. “Had to stick around and keep your egg alive.” 

Emma blinked and tears fell… “My egg…” she turned her head and when her eyes found Solas a pained whine tore through her. “Solas… I’m sorry Ididn’tmeantohurtyouI’msorryI’msosorry..” she was rambling, her words beginning to run together and into other languages, some of it not making any sense.

“ _ You’re _ sorry?” Solas sounded choked. “You had every right- have every right to be angry with me.” 

Emma shuddered in his arms and Damon looked over at the kids silently watching their parents with confused, but intelligent eyes. “Guys… maybe wait till the Littles are sleeping.” He would say not here, but he didn’t want to hint to Em that they would leave her. She was still desperately clinging to them with her aura. 

Banal’ras held out a cup to him, his eyes flicking to Emma. “It is hot chocolate… just lightly sweetened.” 

Just like she liked it, still a little bitter, like her coffee. He smiled his thanks and took the cup, shifting his grip on Emma so she could lean against him as she sat up. First she stared at the cup in confusion before he nudged her slightly. “Hydrate.”

She let out a choked half sob that flared with  _ lossmemoryhewasdead _ . “I buried you. I couldn’t sing… I tried, I couldn't.”

“That’s okay. No sense singing over an empty cup.” He said softly, pressing the warm cup into her hand but keeping his on it to steady it, her hands still trembled. “Solas kept me from following you back. Kept me here for you.” 

Emma laughed… but it was painful, broken. “Earth… it’s dead… dull… nothing… I fought… tranquil, because I was cold… there was nothing without blood… can’t feel without blood… I fought.” 

“Did you find the leylines?” He asked softly. Earth ran on blood and will and intent, stories and legacies, belief and things named. Violence and blood were something earth was well versed in. 

“Leylines, faerie rings, the old places, liminal spaces, I found everything. Fought and bled and learned.” She shuddered as she rambled. “I learned to believe in things named. I have too many… not enough power in it.”

“All of them true, but unable to hold you truely.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and then pushed the cup to her lips. “I gave mamaela my true name.” 

Emma hummed but took a sip of the dark liquid, her eyes sliding shut as she seemed to… savor the flavor. “You were Unseelie in her eyes… fae courts. She blamed Babala.”

“Unseelie and with the name of someone she was told was dead. I understood.” He gave Mamaela a smile and she returned it softly. “Probably didn’t help that I accidentally invoked both of their names when we found them.”

“Oh.” Emma… she didn’t laugh, but made a soft noise like a thought of a laugh. “That went poorly.”

“I got shot by Legolas. It was great, I got a scar.” Damon grinned when Legolas’ ears turned pink. “Little Leggy got his magic by following him around like a tiny fanboy.” 

“My leaf… he grew…” Legolas’ hand went to hers and she squeezed it tightly with a small sob. “Joined a fellowship… we always dressed for comic cons...”

“I went as Aragorn and you went as Legolas, but I always said you should go as Frodo ‘cause you’re so short.” He smiled and brushed her with his aura in a wisp of fond memory. He went to pull it back but her arua latched on… desperate  _ don’tleavepleasestayIcan’tpleasestay.  _ “I gotcha, Em. I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

She trembled in relief and he tried to direct her back to something softer. “Hey, I gotta fansquee question. Did you ever meet Aragorn?” 

Emma nodded. “He was King already… Elessar. Arwen was pregnant. I had tea with Elrond… sang for Gandalf… never ending song for Galadriel… danced in the branches of the Greenwoods.”

He had to stop and process that, every nerd bone in his body  _ screaming _ in jealous glee. “Wow.” It came out a little squeakier than intended, and Babala sighed.

“Two of them in fansquee. Wonderful.” 

Emma suddenly gasped… and wiggled. “Abelas!”

“Vin, ma’tarlen?” Abelas snapped to attention. 

Emma looked at him and started crying again but not shaking sobs. “Oh, Abelas, I have them… kept them. Your memories.”

Abelas frowned in confusion. “My… memories?”

“You…” She gasped in pain. “I couldn’t let you fade, it was my fault. I kept you safe as I could with what I had left. I have your first life.” 

Damon shushed her, world shattering revelations could wait. “Not right now, EmTi.”

“No, I need- he needs-” She sat up and reached behind him to put a hand on the tree, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth in pain. He saw her tattered fea reach through the tree, carrying a blueish cluster of threads into one of the fruits. The fruit dropped and Abelas caught it on instinct.

Emma collapsed back in exhaustion. “Your memories. Just… break it… when you’re ready.” She shuddered. “Just… remember… I know where she is.” 

Solas’ eyes were pained and longing as he watched her and Damon could see his arm twitching to hold her but the dude was holding back, his aura strained with guilt and longing and fear.

Abelas stared at the fruit in his hand in wary perplexion before bowing his head and stepping back twice and turning and leaving. Emma watched him go before dropping her head against his arm. 

Through all this the kids had been quiet… all seeming to know that their mamae just needed to be held, touch grounding her. Isy turned in Emma’s arms, her eyes soft and hopeful. “Mamae… Can… can you Run the Moon with us? Next time?” 

Emma trembled and gave Isy a watery smile, her aura flaring... silver spreading further… pushing out the dark… the acid… at Isy’s naming her Mamae. “What is a Moon Run, Sweetheart? It sounds fun.” 

  
  
  
  
  


They stayed under the tree, the kids slowly beginning to chatter, share stories and show off their magic, their knives, drawings. Emma watched them hungrily the whole time, curled between him and Legolas, though she would give Solas lost, hesitant looks at times, like she wanted to speak with him. 

The pair of them both felt… guilty and lost, and Damon hoped they could resolve it quickly. The younger kids began drifting off as the sun set, and Loghain quietly gathered Ant up, hesitantly resting a hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“It’s… good to have you back.” His voice was strained with emotion. 

Emma closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his hand. “Missed you, dad.” 

Loghain swallowed and bent, pressing a kiss to her hair, before moving away. “I will have a ‘nest’ made up in Damon’s room. The Littles will be there for you when you are ready to sleep.” 

“Thanks.” Damon smiled softly at the man, the dude was trying hard to keep it together. Really hard.

Cass stood and knelt in front of Emma. “May I take the twins to the nest? They will be there when you go. All of us will be. I’ll even send for Leal and Legs.”

Reflexively Emma’s arms tightened around them, her aura flaring in renewed panic. “I-“

Damon hesitated before unclasping the silver and black braided arm band he wore around his upper arm with the parent charm to the kid’s bracelets. He felt… naked without it, but... “Here, you’ll know where they are, they can call you. All the cubs have them.” He looked at her small wrists, then huffed before putting it around her neck like a necklace. “The stone heats up if they call, and you can follow it to them wherever they are.” 

Emma bit her lip and he could see her aura… so shredded… test the charm… her panic calmed and she pressed lingering kisses to the twins heads’. “Rest well, ma’da’fen.” 

Ash moved in front of her and grabbed her in a tight hug and Damon had to grab one of his horns before he got gored accidentally. Ash gave him an apologetic smile when he moved back to sign. “ **I’m happy you are back, mamae** .” 

Emma’s chin and lips trembled and her hand reached out to cup Ash’s cheek her thumb brushing the edge of the scar he got saving her and the twins. “You are… always saving me… my darling.”

Ash grinned crookedly. “ **I’m a big damn hero** .” 

Emma laughed… softly but it was a laugh. “You are.” She paused then… “You swore. You’re too young for that.” 

He smiled and grabbed Danielle’s hand, pulling her to her feet. “ **Good night, mamae** .”

Emma watched them go, her aura still reaching but it wasn’t frantic, Legolas stayed holding her close to his side. Gimli rose with a grumble about ‘enough sitting under a tree like an elf’, and turned to offer a fond smile to Emma. “Good to have you back, lass.” He then held a hand out to Beth. “Let’s go with the kids, Mamaela. Seems to be a bit crowded out here.” 

Babala started to rise as well to follow them, but Emma reached out and grabbed his shirt. “Not- not yet. I’m still… “ 

Solas flinched and then Emma looked at him with a slightly panicked and guilty expression. “Solas… I- I’m sorry…. I-“

Solas’ eyes closed,  _ paingriefshame.  _ “Emma… you were right to be angry, I-”

“Didn’t remember!” She gasped, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I had no right to- to hurt you, again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was weak, I couldn’t fight, couldn’t… I couldn’t change anything… I had to… It killed me, I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” She sobbed curling into herself.

Solas looked stricken and Damon saw his aura tentatively brush the acidic edge of hers. “You… saw me… You were there...” 

She keened in guilt and pain. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t fast enough, I was too weak to- I went for help but I wasn’t- I couldn’t-” She broke into gasping sobs and Damon held her tightly as she shook.

Solas swallowed, guilt… pain running through his aura… “It wasn’t you, you- you were the one who- oh Eru, you saw me with them.” 

“I’m sorry!” Emma sobbed harder…  _ fearguiltpleasedon’tleavemeI’msorryI’msorry. _

Solas looked horrified and unable to think of what to say, so Damon spoke for him. “He’s not leaving you, Em. We’re not leaving you.” 

“ _ You are sorry? _ ” Solas’ voice was hoarse, torn. “Emma you- you had every right to deny me.”

Emma froze, and looked up. “Deny you?  _ You _ ? I- I wouldn’t! I-” She shook violently. “Solas… I saw-  _ them _ .” Her lip curled in a snarl over the world. “And did nothing. You have- have every right to- to deny  _ me _ . I- I let… let you suffer. I was weak and… selfish. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” 

Solas shook his head, tears in his own eyes. “A bargain… to keep me from her. Another to take me to safety… another to- oh.” His aura flared in pained realization. “There’s the pattern…” 

Emma keened and Legolas’ jaw worked as if he was forcing himself to stay quiet… but Damon could see his desire to protect his mother… his Naneth. 

“I- the old ways- magic of earth- rituals and bargains... it was all I had left- I- I couldn’t- couldn’t stop them.” She sobbed out and her hand clutched at her chest… “If you- oh god… I understand… I won’t- if you don’t wa-want me.”

“Woah.” Damon stepped in, feeling both of their auras flare in horror and pain and- “Hey, remember when this same exact thing happened in Crestwood?”

Emma’s mouth opened and her eyes flickered silver before she let out a small hysterical laugh. “Gods the pair of you are so dramatic.” She sat up and put her fist over her heart, her eyes intense as she stared at Solas. “Thranduil, my Pride, my Piemaker and Wolf,  Ir ma’ane. Sul la’var uth’var ma’emathe’em .”  _ I am yours. As long as you will have me. _

Solas made a gutted sound, his aura pained. “Emma… Miwen… you- you can’t mean that. I- I took- had others.”  _ Guiltpainunworthy. _ “I accused you of betrayal… but it was… me.” 

Damon’s heart ached for the two of them. So… so much pain. So much guilt and shadows and time. How could they ever be the same with so much pain between them? So much ancient history? No wonder Emma was so… broken. Eons alone and watching her love suffer, unable to help. He held her tighter, but was ready to let her go to Solas the moment she was ready.

“You-” She looked away and shuddered. “Did not remember, and you did not- did not remember because- because you were trying to- to save me.” She trembled violently at recalling the memories. “They had another vessel for me. My blood.” 

“June...” Solas’ voice was tight with anger. 

“Yes… he didn’t stop hunting me… That’s- I- It hurt, but I- I understand. You… survived.” Her eyes closed in relief. “Oh god… you survived.” 

Solas moved slowly, very, very slowly to kneel in front of her. “Emma’lath… you… you fought for me… you were weakened and broken but you fought.” His eyes closed tightly before they opened, determination and hope lacing his aura… “You are not weak.” Emma let out a broken sob and Solas held out a hand palm up… an offer… a request… a plea. “Emma, Ma’emma… will you take me back?”

Damon felt her aura flare in silver  _ hopereliefyesyesyes _ and let her go an instant before she bodily launched herself at Solas, almost knocking him over as she clung to him with deep, gasping sobs. 


	3. Chapter 3

He had torn her apart when he removed her from himself. It was his fault she was weakened and driven to near madness. But even weak, torn, and injured, she had bargained with Andruil to keep him from her, bargained with him to take him to safety and find Banal’ras… Gwathren, bargained with Anaris to save him from Andruil, doing everything she could while torn and shattered to save him, even after he had learned to control the bonding instinct and started taking lovers to further his own image as a trickster to the evanuris. 

Yet she loved him still… had fought for him. Loyal to him throughout the ages… Solas felt his heart clench in pain and guilt over what her love for him had cost her as he gripped her to him… He was unworthy to be holding her, but she was clinging to him… had spent millennia fighting to reach him. If… if for some impossible reason she still wanted him, he would be hers. 

But not now… not yet… her aura was too damaged… too shredded… their bonding would be too painful... he did that to her. But he could hold her… allow himself that, give her what she wished. 

“You two… need time or pack?” Damon spoke quietly after Emma’s sobs had lessened to faint gasps, her nose buried in the crook of his neck as if scenting him.

Solas wanted… oh, he wanted to keep her, hide her away until her wounds healed but… “She- she needs her family.”

“She called you Thranduil.” Legolas’ voice was… shocked and disbelieving. 

Damon suddenly blew out a heavy, relieved but confused breath. “Oh… that… somehow makes more sense than two people.” 

His son… his first born, her last. Guilt wracked through him again for doubting her… “Yes. I… I was slain. She… bound my fea- aura. Kept me from Mando’s Halls until I was stolen from her. Made into…” He shut his eyes, forcing his mind away from the memories, he could not… not this time. “This was the form they bound me to.” 

Legolas seemed torn between incredulous shock and puzzlement. “You are… shorter than I remember.” 

Emma huffed softly and burrowed her face deeper into his neck. “I… know how to- to sing a form. Had to- After… after my magic is back, is stable, I can fix that- make you yourself… if you want.” 

After… no, they would deal with that when the time came… now was for Emma… his Emma, Miwen, his impossible woman and she needed them… all of them.

Damon blinked. “Wait… you can what?”

Emma flinched, her aura trying to claw into his in panic and fear. And he tried to blanket her in his… reassuring and loving. She relaxed slowly. “I- learned to do a thing?” 

“That… is so cool... “ Damon said faintly. “I learned to do a thing but it isn’t that cool of a thing and now I’m feeling inadequate. And young.” 

Emma actually snorted, and it… it was beautiful to hear… it was hope… promise that she could heal. He wanted… to hear it again, something close to her laughter. 

“She cured orcs of corruption…” he waited for Damon's eyes to widen before he finished. “And named them Kossith.” 

He felt Damon’s  _ shockdisbeliefohgodsshesthemaker _ “Woah. Wait… you’re saying- Oh my gods… my little sister is sort of my mother… this is… so, so Southern.”

“Ain’t that southern.” She snorted again and lifted her head. “You don’t count…. you made your own…. but I’ll claim Bull.”

“Okay...” Damon still felt stunned through their link, but also… curious. “Can I learn to- Later. Geek later. Let’s get to the cuddle pile.” 

He nodded and went to stand, Emma whimpered and clung to him, unwilling to let him go. It was easy,  _ right _ , to lift her up and hold her to him, for her to curl against him. She… she was letting him touch her. She… wanted him close. He looked at Legolas, at his son, who watched them with a confused expression… he had not yet come to terms… to accept it.

“Come on, Little Leaf.” Emma said softly, her breath catching over the epesse. “I can explain more… later. It’s… a long story and I’m so, so tired. This is your father, your Ada. Just… much, much older.” 

Legolas looked at him and back at his mother in sudden realization. “You said… he’d be here…” he suddenly looked… guilty, shamed. “Naneth, I-“

“You did not know…” he said quietly. “And I did not help matters...”

Emma groaned. “You fought… of course you fought.”

“Our family is a godsdamned soap opera.” Damon snorted, gently nudging both him and Legolas forward. “To the nest, she’s ‘bout to fall out from all this drama.”

“You are handling all of this remarkably calmly.” Glorfindel remarked from where he had been leaning against the tree, watching the whole exchange.

“Oh, I kinda went numb to shock when I found out motherfreakin’ Legolas was my nephew and Glorfindel was my ancestor and I got to arm wrestle Gimli. Everything else is just... “ Damon shrugged and started walking towards Skyhold. “Icing.” 

“I screamed at Gandalf.” Emma murmured sleepily. 

Solas… smiled at the memory as he carried her towards their children, their family. 

She… was back. 

And despite everything…

She wanted him still. 

  
  
  
  


They all slept in a pile of pillows and blankets, Emma in the very center, the twins on either side of her and she leaned her back against Solas. Damon had shifted into his wolf form so Ant and Cass could use him as a pillow and Em gave a small sleepy smile. “You finally figured it out.” 

They slept and it felt… right to have Emma back with them, even torn and ancient, she fit into their family like the piece they had been sorely missing. He woke before the rest and slipped out of the pile of  _ packhomefamilylove _ to get breakfast. Em was back and he… he wanted to cook for her. He paused when he found Banal’ras waiting outside the door. No, not waiting: Guarding. Banal’ras, who was apparently an ancient elf that Del recognized, and now that Solas was apparently Thranduil, Solas recognized.

“You know that is a whole ass mindtrip, right?” Damon gestured vaguely to him and back to the door where everyone was sleeping.

Banal’ras huffed quietly. “Try guarding your queen who is not yet your queen, while your queen gives you instructions.”

Damon blinked, then shook his head. “I am very purposefully not thinking about that lest I need a cactus and a lot of lube.” He ran a hand over his face. “So… how’d you two meet? Way back? I. Have soooo many questions. Also, really glad you’re not dead.” 

Banal’ras raised his brows but was smiling fondly. “She was driving a prince insane after having fought a band of orcs together, she bit him and then terrified the council of kings.” He then huffed. “She sparred with me… called me ‘turtle boy’ and my mother a hamster.”

Damon couldn’t help it, he burst into giggles. “And your father smelled of elderberries! Oh gods, no wonder you weren’t phased by her.” 

“She was much easier to deal with than before.” Banal’ras smirked. 

“So… can I shanghai you into helping me make a tub of rice pudding and get stories of Emma’s shenanigans?” Damon paused, then winced. “Also, sorry about the prison thing. I was a bit… in the dark.” 

Banal’ras actually chuckled. “Do not worry yourself… It is a very nice prison. Five star rating, as Emma would say.”

“Good to know. Awkward, but good to know.” Damon felt… a bit like someone had taken a two by four to his head with how stunned he felt over an… ancient elf using a modern earth phrase.

He might have been staring a little bit because Banal’ras raised his eyebrows. “Rice pudding, you said?”

“Right. Yeah.” He started walking towards the kitchens. “So… what does lembas taste like?”

Banal’ras was very forthcoming during his intera-uh trivia questions… Banal’ras had known Emma longer than anyone combined… through the rise of the evanuris and through the ages after. And Damon found himself very grateful that she hadn’t been completely alone. So long… and… oh wow, he was so… young compared to them all.

He stopped on the way back to the room and frowned at Banal’ras. “How… I don’t even know how to ask it. I’m like… not even forty yet.” 

“Like a very unsettling, genius child who will throw paint at you and then solve the plague. Exuberant and respect worthy, but very, very… hyper.” Banal’ras said dryly

Damon considered that. “Fair enough.” 

They continued pushing the cart of enough rice pudding to feed an army, or a pack of wolves, back to the room, and Damon was concerned to see Abelas pacing back and forth outside the door.

“Everything all right?”

Abelas looked up and… his aura was… holy shit! It was… The dude was glowing. Damon hadn’t seen it before, but now that it was healed, Abelas looked like… he had had a very large missing piece of himself returned.

“Miwen! I need to see her.” Abelas spoke… it was Abelas’ voice but… it wasn’t. The guy speaking was confident, unafraid of causing displeasure, and was... commanding.

“Wow.” Damon couldn’t help but exclaim. “You got upgraded. Um-” He shook his head. He must have taken the memories Emma gave him. “Yeah, they should be awake by now.” 

Banal’ras stepped forward and opened the door before moving back and placing his hand over his heart. “My lord.”

What? “What?”

But Abelas just went through the door and Damon followed, feeling kinda worried about the sudden personality change and Banal’ras calling him ‘lord’ and the dude was  _ glowing _ with magic.

Emma was sitting in the middle of the nest, but when she saw Abelas she stood, looking cautiously hopeful and very, very sad. “I’m sorry, there wasn’t time to ask and then-”

Abelas did not slow his pace, striding quickly towards her and… grabbing her into a hug. “You are… an impossible, meddlesome, tiny nuisance.”

What?! And Solas was just… smiling at them!? He was usually so…  _ ‘mine’ _ .

“You’re not mad? I kinda kidnapped your soul…” Emma’s voice was muffled against his chest, but she was hugging him tightly. “You’re hugging me and I didn’t have to ambush you from a tree so I don’t think you are, but… just to be sure?” 

What?

“Mad? You ensured my survival… you- oh Miwen.” Abelas only seemed to hold her tighter to him and another wisp of her aura shifted from acid black to silver. “No… you are a blessing. Forever my tiny Meddler.”

“What?”

Emma let out a choking sob of a laugh. “I’m glad. Do… you want to see me break his entire fansquee mind?” 

Abelas raised an eyebrow at her and looked back at Damon calculatingly… “More than you?”

“He might pass out.” 

What?

Abelas sighed. “I’m sure it is inevitable.” 

Emma pulled away from him slightly and turned to look at him with a… that was a very evil smile. “Damon, meet the restored and reimbodied Elrond Peredhel.”

“WHAT?!  _ The Elrond Peredhel _ ?! The Noldor Peredhel? The Wisest of the elves, Elrond? The bearer of Vilya, Elrond of Imladris, Elrond?  _ The  _ _ motherfucking _ _ Elrond _ ?! I magic touched him!” Damon had to sit down, there wasn’t enough air in the room. “Oh Gods, I magic touched Elrond.” 

Abelas- oh gods, Elrond!  _ The Elrond _ looked at him somewhere between amused and disgusted. “Damon, please... language.”

“You’re  _ Elrond _ !!!” That deserved some swearing! “Oh Gods! You- you trained us… fuck me sideways with a hammer,  _ The Elrond _ trained- Ash you trained with Elrond!”

_ The Elrond _ pinched the bridge of his nose. “Flattering… and still unsettling.” 

Solas sent a playful flicker through their link. “I feel jealous, isa’ma’lin. You called me ‘smug’ when we met.”

“I didn’t know you!” Damon felt dizzy. “But…  _ Elrond!” _

“I was mistaken. His ‘fansquee’ is worse than yours.” The-mother-fucking-Elrond said dryly. “You only sat cross legged on my desk and stared.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rochelle was feeling quite… confused. She had taken the wolf children to see the mad woman, and they had broken in and… hugged her, and everyone had come running and had taken the woman out ot the tree and… cuddled. For an entire day. In public. And then had all gone into Amelan’s room and hadn’t come out at all the next day.

And she was curious, and oddly lonely. She must have been pouting because Rain gave her a flat look. “You could go see them.”

Well. She might just. So she wheedled a plate of cookies from Ilaan and marched straight to Amelan’s room. The dark haired elf who had kidnapped her was standing outside the door and she frowned at him. “I thought you were arrested.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I was exonerated.”’

“You kidnapped me! And Rain!” 

“Yes… that seems to be the theme.” He smirked and opened the door, “would you care to join them, Miss Rochelle?”

He was… smirking. She narrowed her eyes at him and skirted around him, keeping her back away from him and backing away until he closed the door. “Amelan!” She called out as she climbed the stairs. “Why is he out of prison? I’m only willing to forgive so many kidnappings!” 

“Ah…” she heard Amelan sigh and the woman whispered. “Kidnappings?”

She reached the top of the stairs and… froze when she saw everyone staring at her… The Dread Wolf included. “Um… I brought cookies?” Her previous confidence evaporated under Fen’Harel’s gaze.

Ash grinned and jumped up from where he had been sitting on a pile of… pillows on the floor next to the mad, one-armed woman from the dungeons. His supposed mamae. He gave her a brief, one armed hug and snatched some cookies and the mad woman frowned at her curiously. “Kidnapping?”

Rochelle lifted her chin. “Yes. The elf outside your door kidnapped me and Rain and dragged us back to my parents. It was dreadful. I bruised my knuckles on their armor.” 

The mad woman… who didn’t look as mad as before, looked around, her face drawn in shock. “Ras?”

Amelan and Fen’Harel… winced. “It was… complicated.” 

“He kidnapped me, then he was in prison, and now he is outside your bedroom door… smirking!” She felt a little indignant, truth be told.

The woman blinked… then was frowning. “Damon? What?” she looked over Rochelle’s shoulder. “Ras?”

“In all fairness, my queen, your instructions were terribly specific and horribly vague.” A hand reached for the plate of cookies and she couldn’t help it, she  _ hissed _ at him. He snatched a cookie anyway, quickly, but then pointed at her with it. “I have dealt with far worse than you, child.” 

She glared at him. “‘Bite first, talk later’ my ‘tiny noble’ ass!” 

“You are quite snappish, so I was justified.” He bit into the cookie with a smirk.

She whirled and glared at Amelan. “Why is he out of prison? And smirking!?”

“Better question, why did you put Banal’ras in jail? My Banal’ras?” The woman asked, clearly upset.

Amelan’s eyes widened in clear panic and he pointed at Fen’Harel. “So he wouldn’t kill him.” 

“Isa’ma’lin!” Fen’Harel said in… panicked betrayal. 

The woman’s head snapped to Fen’harel and… the Dread Wolf winced as she almost shouted. “So you wouldn’t what?!”

“It was a very nice prison.” Banal’ras said mildly.

“Oh, well that makes it all better! At least they locked my friend in a  _ nice _ prison.” The woman’s eyes sparked silver for an instant, and oddly, Amelan seemed happy at the fact. 

“Ah.” Rochelle sniffed in sudden understanding. “You have connections.” She walked away from the elf and offered the plate of cookies to Amelan. “Will you introduce us? I’d like to know who to yell at next time he tries to kidnap me.”

The woman looked… surprised and still very confused.

Amelan seized the distraction. “This is my sister, Lady Emma, uh most of the elves around here call her Leal’sa. Em, this is Pebble, Ash’s friend.”

“My name is Rochelle. Not Pebble.” Rochelle rolled her eyes before offering the not-as-mad-as-she-had-been-woman a cookie. “Pleased to meet you, Leal’sa. By your… Banal’ras’ address may I assume you are actually a queen?” Not as polite as she probably should be, but she was arguing with the Amelan of Fenvhenan who was sitting in a nest of pillows with a dozen other people. Manners were not as… confining here.

“Not technically anymore.” The woman frowned. “Huh… I haven’t actually checked on the Greenwood in a few millennia.” She winced… “Sorry, Piemaker… I dropped a thread there.” 

Rochelle regarded her for a long moment. A few months ago she would have completely dismissed the idea as madness, but she had been there when they had woken up the giant elves from the vault. “How do you fit thousands of years into one mind? It doesn't… it shouldn’t fit.”

The woman smiled… actually smiled… it seemed to make everyone in the room relax, and tapped her forehead. “No one knows… yet it works.”

“Fascinating.” Rochelle could pick up a non answer. She set the cookies down on the tray for the Littles and Rain to swarm over and went to sit by Ash, glancing at Fen’Harel nervously, but he was just staring at Leal’sa with a… besotted expression. “You missed tree time. Twice in a row. I forgive you.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “ **Thank you** .”

Leal’sa was watching them… and she looked like she was trying to puzzle something out. “You said ‘only so many kidnappings’.” Amelan And Fen’harel both winced and Lady Cassandra quickly shoved a cookie in her mouth and began to chew… very slowly. 

Both men seemed… reverently terrified of the tiny woman. Rochelle watched them in interest as she spoke. “I was a fosterling.” 

The woman frowned and Amelan started to relax but flinched when the woman turned to him very slowly. “Modern foster… Or?”

Amelan opened his mouth, then shut it. “Can I preface with an ‘it was complicated’, or do I just go ahead and run?” 

This was amazing… and comical. “I was forcibly kidnapped from my parent’s estate. That was when I got my supposed reputation of biting.”

Amelan groaned. “Pebble… you-“

The tiny woman's eyes flashed. “Damon Theron! You kidnapped  _ children _ !?”

“Fostered. Technically legal in Thedas. I sent them back!”

“‘Technically legal’?! Technically legal doesn't mean crap!” 

Rochelle couldn’t help but grin at the way the giant man was hunched defensively. “In his defense, it was the best thing to happen to me, which is why I’m so irate at your Banal’ras for forcibly taking me back to my parents. Also, teach me your ways?”

Leal’sa looked at her then back at Amelan, pointing at him sharply. “You are not off the hook.” Then pointed at her. “Can I adopt you?”

Ash suddenly sat up and shook his head and Rochelle frowned at him curiously before slowly answering. “As far as I know… my parents have not disowned me so I don’t think so? But as Banal’ras,” She glared at him, “Learned, people have to literally drag me out of here.” 

Banal’ras looked completely unapologetic. “My dear, your horrible, horrible experience brought about why everyone is in this room so I will not apologize. If that is what you are looking for.”

“What was the phrase you used, Gaelathe?”

“Tactical bribes?” Gaelathe said around a mouthful of cookie, gleefully watching the show. 

“Ah, yes. Tactical bribes are preferable to apologies.” She lifted her chin and folded her hands primly in her lap. 

Banal’ras smirked. “I shall keep that in mind.”

Amelan frowned. “Wait, I didn’t have to give tactical bribes.”

“Rain.” Rochelle smiled and her friend waved before going back to braiding Legolas’ hair. 

  
  
  
  


Emma was… Gods, She was amazing. After nearly a week of just cuddling the littles and spending time with the family (mostly as herself, but sometimes as a mottled black and white wolf that… slowly, very slowly, little by little, the white was turning silver and the black was disappearing), she declared she needed to move, to train and Banal’ras smiled immediately, disappearing but returning as soon as she had donned leather armor and presented her with a case… with a house golden flower sigil on the lid. 

Damon was a little… okay a lot excited when she opened it and there was a pair of daggers exactly like Del’s wedding dagger, just… Emma sized. He may have squeaked. It happened. 

Del gave him a thoughtful look but Damon was focusing on not being jealous that Emma had House of the Golden Flower daggers and just being happy that Emma had something awesome like that. Emma took one dagger, then frowned at her arm stump. “Wonder if the third one will stick.” 

“Third time is the charm.” Damon said before sitting on the training yard fence. He’d need to break out those arm designs he’d been working on before she… left. 

Emma shrugged. “I’ll have to try later. Everything still hurts.”

Damon looked at her in concern, but of course she was in pain. Her aura may be brighter than it was, but it was still shredded and shadowed. 

“No magic then?” Banal’ras asked.

“For your sake.” Emma smirked, turning the dagger backwards in her grip. 

Banal’ras tilted his head in a playful way he hadn’t seen before and the elf pulled his sword and twirling it expertly. This was gonna be awesome, Damon could feel it. They faced off and then stared for a moment before Emma quietly said, “Not getting any younger here, turtleboy.” 

Banal’ras smirked and slowly advanced… then they were off in a sparking dance that Damon had to pull his aura out to follow as they slashed and dodged and deflected, spinning and leaping and… wow. 

And within a span of seconds Emma won with a tap of the hilt of her dagger against Banal’ras’ throat. Banal’ras laughed and shook his head, stepping back with a bow. “Once again you have defeated me, my queen.” 

Damon clapped slowly. “So can’t wait to grow up and be badass too.” 

Emma snorted and flicked her wrist, the dagger flying deep into a training dummy’s chest. Heart. Perfect kill. “Not what it’s cracked up to be…”

He thought of the crows lines by Cass’ eyes and the lack of them on his own and looked down. “Yeah. I can see that.” 

Emma’s aura tentatively reached out… barely brushing, but it was less and less acidic as the time went on. “Damon… I- I tied Gimli’s life to Legolas…. If- if Cass is willing...”

He looked at her and had to force himself to keep his  _ desperatehopeyespleasekeepher _ from dripping into his words. “That- that would.” He had to clear his throat. “I’ll ask her.” 

Emma bit her lip. “Damon… it’s blood magic.”

He felt his heart sink. Cass loathed blood magic still. “Oh. I don’t know if she’ll… I mean, she was alright with me and Sols, and bringing you back, but…” 

Emma looked down… “I know… I- I’m sorry. I couldn’t find any other binding agent… it had to be something that never ran out.”

“I’ll ask her.” He shrugged in defeat. “I’ll ask and whatever she decides is her choice.” He shook himself and forced on a grin. “So, how quick can you land me on my ass?” 

Turns out: very quick. They had barely started and Emma used her own itty bitty weight and a pressure point to knock the air out of him.

“Yup. Gonna be houndin’ you for lessons EmTi. That was awesome.” He wheezed from the ground. 

“Long time no see, Lil’Bit.” Bull said, oddly hesitant, from the fence. 

Emma let out a slightly hysterical laugh as she turned to face Bull, who looked unsettled. “Yeah, just a bit.” 

Bull looked her over before grunting in his chest, the way he did before doing something that scared him just because it scared him. “Wanna spar with an old man?”

“Want to spar with an old woman?” Emma said softly. “No magic.” 

Bull was quiet for a second before he slipped over the railing. “First blood?”

Emma studied him with a blank expression before she gave him a wry smile. “Alright, Bull.”

They faced off and Bull studied her, still uneasy, before swinging, and Emma moved back, her arm coming up defensively, but not- not far enough. His ax grazed her forearm, bringing up a line of red. 

“You win.” She said softly, keeping her arm up and her eyes fixed on Bull. “I bled.” 

Bull’s eyes were fixed on the cut before he let out a sharp breath. “So you did.” If it bled, it could be killed. Damon felt… unsettled by the fact that Bull was unsettled by Emma. Even if she was… ancient and torn and impossible.

Emma suddenly blinked, then stepped forward. “Hey, check my hair for me, what color are my roots?” 

Bull frowned, but bent and parted her hair to peer at the roots. “Black, some silver, green, purple, blue- what did you do to your hair? Goes to the roots.”

Emma’s eyes sparked silver and she turned and hiked up the back of her armor, revealing a tattoo of a white wolf howling on her shoulder blade. Em?! Had a tattoo?! “Is there a scar? On my back?”

“Uh… no?” Bull looked uncomfortable and-

Oh! Damon realized what she was thinking the same second she blurted out. “Car wreck! I have- I need-” She looked around frantically and then fade stepped away.

She was in a car wreck, and her body had changed. She was sealed here, same as him.

Bull looked unsettled. “What just happened?”

“She just realized she’s not leaving again.” Damon laughed, slightly hysterical. “Bet you ten soveriegns she’s in Solas’ room right now.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Emma was back. His Miwen, Da’asha, his Emma’lath. Mir nin. His Elvar’asha. But… distant. Closed off and though her touches were not withheld, her aura was wary. He could not blame her. She was sparring, training in the courtyard, and he was taking the time to try and sort through the… countless memories returned to him, trying to make sense of them. There were so many… both the ones he had ripped from himself to save her, and the ones he had closed off to spare himself. 

So many. Gwathren and him playing together as elflings. His father… The memory of being an elk in a garden, Legolas on his back. Miwen smiling up at him with pie in her hands. A scrap of a song. The taste of lembas. A-

He felt her pull on the threads of the world, towards him. He opened his eyes as she appeared in front of him, her eyes wide and her aura reaching towards him.

“I died!” She gasped as if it was a wonderful thing. 

He stood carefully, hoping the action did not startle her. “Emma’lath?”

“I was driving a car, there were headlights, then I was here! No injuries! Old scars are gone… I never thought about them! I died!” She laughed and took a step towards him. 

He looked at her in confusion, what was she-? His thoughts were cut off by her arm curling around his neck… his breath caught as she looked up at him, smiling softly. “I died on earth, ma’lath. There is nothing to call me back. I’m here… for good. My hair color is kind of permanent now though, but at least I don't have horns.” She laughed and he didn’t get a chance to answer before she was kissing him…

He groaned and couldn’t help putting a hand on the small of her back to pull her closer, the other twisting into the… unfamiliar short strands of her hair. She was kissing him. She- She was staying- with him! “Ma’lath, mir nin…” He whispered against her lips. “Please- I- I can’t…” If this was all she wanted… Pala, he would let her go, but he did not want to let her go, did not want to leave an inch of space between them. If this was all she wanted she needed to tell him before he lost the thread of his tenuous control.

Emma- Miwen, the two names bled together in his mind, paused and went stiff, before breaking away and stepping back. “I- I’m sorry.” She looked… Heartbroken, tears gathering, and she started backing away. 

His hands felt empty and moved towards her of their own will, gripping her arm desperately. “Don’t leave. Please.” 

She bit her lip and tears slipped from her eyes. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have assumed… I- I understand, if you… can’t- with me.“

He realized with horror that he had not spoken the rest of his thought aloud and she thought- “No! I meant only that- I have not the restraint if a kiss was all you wanted.” 

She she looked back at him and… suddenly slammed into his chest, her aura reaching for his, longing, pained, familiar and unfamiliar. “I want-“ she gasped and her hand twisted into his shirt. “Please! Solas, I- I can’t-I need you. I want- Bond with me? Pleasepleaseplease.”

She wanted to bond with him. After all he had- He shoved the thought away. There was no room for the thought of others when she was here, clinging to him, asking for him. He held her, opened his aura, welcoming, longing, gently, oh so gently letting his curl against the tattered, scarred, inflamed threads of her aura. She gasped as if in pain… and her aura did flare with it. He pulled away quickly but she keened. “No! Don’t leave!” 

“You’re hurting.” He gently whispered into her hair, “It’s too soon.”

“What’s a little more?” She shuddered and pulled on his shirt desperately as if she could physically claw her way to his arua. “I don’t want to be without you another moment. Please!” She pressed her forehead to his chest. “I need you,  _ please _ !”

He hesitated, not wanting her to be in pain, pain caused by him, but her aura moved towards him, desperate, pleading. Shaky, as if she was having trouble controlling it. “Ai, Emma’lath.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly and dropped his cheek to her hair and closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. “If- if it’s too much you- you must tell me… please.”

She nodded into his chest, whimpering pleas. Her aura still pressing against his… not forceful or insistent but pleading.

He sighed and opened his aura to her, beginning again, slow… gentle… she gasped and curled into him but did not tell him to stop, he moved a step… a thread at a time, letting his aura wash over where their auras began to tangle in cooling healing magic. She trembled and her aura flashed in pain and relief and need as she opened to him.

She was… ancient. Timeless. Power and light shredded again and again but still her. Acidic shadows clung to her, reminding him of bargains and pain, but they shied from his aura, retreating from him and leaving her chamomile-ginger silver. 

“Loyalty and Obsession.” She whispered when he lingered near a persistent shadow. “Two sides of the same spirit. I- I-”

“Shhh. Ma’lath,” he kissed her hair and tried to keep his aura in check… slow… no lapse of control. Not now… “You, are beautiful. Your scars and struggles have only enhanced that.” Another small bit of their aura wove together, soothing it as best he could when it flared.

She brushed against a ragged piece of his aura that had once been hers, re-weaving them together. “When I was older than you were young, I recognized you when you had scars.” 

“The dragon flame…” Another thread.

“Changed the shape of you. I was… I was ready to wait alone for you, but I found you. Young. So, so young.” She laughed and tensed in his arms as another thread of their bond was made.

The closer he got to her center the easier it became to draw their threads together. “Twice you fell into my life from the sky.”

“One an accident and one a desperate attempt to find you.” She curled her aura towards his own center, gently, carefully. He felt her amusement flare. “The first time for me was when you were old, and the first time for you was when you were young.”

Just a little more… “You-“ he sighed in relief and solace as the last thread was woven… he felt  _ right _ … their bond completed… new and old… whole… home. “You teased me.” 

“You bit me.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. He felt her testing the bond and her mouth opened in bliss. “There you are…” She whispered in awe. “After everything… there you are.” 

“Here I am, and” He whispered and gently tugged on the bond to reassure her. He smiled as he echoed their words of his first time with her “You liked it.”

She opened her eyes and they shimmered in silver. “I did.” She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You should do it again.” 

He closed his eyes at the sensation and clutched at his restraint. “I do not want to-”

“There’s something new on this body.” She said coyly. “Something you’ll want to see.” 

“Mir nin, I want to see you in any shape, any body, any form.” 

“You- you mean that.” She said wonderingly. “It feels so… strange to feel you again.” Her hand rested against the side of his face. “You’re… here and real and I can touch you. Have you. Stay with you.” She shuddered. “Asanalan’en annar’ala athem, asanalan’en annar’ala dan’latha.” _Ten thousand years separated, ten thousand years to grieve._

“But here we are, ma’nas. Together.” 

Her aura flared in awe and happiness. “Together.” 

  
  
  


Emma was here… she was here. Here to stay. She had died on earth. A car wreck, a distant part of her hoped the other person was okay, but it was overshadowed with the fact that she was like Damon now, no ties to earth anymore. She was here, for good. Unpredictable magics could not tear her away anymore. 

She wanted to laugh… to cry... to oh God, she was here… She curled around Solas, her wolf, her pride. Thranduil, her Piemaker, her King… with a shaky breath, feeling… stunned. Their bond was new, different, the jagged edges of them still learning to fit together after so long, but… he was hers and she was his, and she was never leaving again. 

His hand trailed patterns up her back, his fingers lingering on the tattoo, “If I did not like it so much I would be upset.” He hummed quietly, their new bond thrumming in possessive pleasure.

“Of course you like it.” She laughed softly. “It’s your claim, permanently on my skin.”

He shifted slightly, and she could feel his uneasy curiosity. “Whe- when did you…?”

She sighed and breathed in his scent… it was… calming, grounding. “Imladris… after- after I was pulled back. I just… it was something I could control… something that had meaning. My emotions were so hard to reach but... I wanted… something… just in case the ritual-“ she had to stop, force away the despair that threatened at the reliving of her time back on earth. And focused on their new bond in her chest… it grounded. She was here… with him… he was here.

“I-“ she felt him swallow. “You were… pala. You weren’t in order.”

“I told you to wait till I was younger.” She said softly, breathing deeply. His skin against hers, his smell, their bond. Staying grounded. Reminding herself… she was here. “I… I feared we were doing a Doctor and River Song and that… that when you were old I wouldn’t…” 

His hands soothed down her back, gentle pressure. “Ahh… The Doctor Who.” 

She pulled back and looked at him in shock, “How-?”

He smiled and bent his head, kissing her gently. “Stories to entertain the children… I also know too many details about the Skywalker family and a boy who lived.”

Damon. Her heart clenched at missing so much. “I’m surprised he didn’t do Firefly.” She laughed wetly and pressed her face to his neck again. She didn’t want to cry… but she was not willing to close herself off again… not again. 

“No, he did. Isy ran around for months lisping ‘curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal’ at every inconvenience.” He spoke in a gentle, amused tone as he kept rubbing her back, tilting his head to allow her room. Baring his throat to her, something he hadn’t done… in all the time she had watched him while separated, he had never once willingly let someone at his throat. 

It was… “I missed you… so much.” She whispered quietly.

His arms tightened around her and he breathed into her shoulder. “Never again. My love. Never again.” 

His breath against her skin. His smell. Their bond. Here. She was here.

  
  
  
  


Solas and Emma had missed lunch… and supper. Damon was not surprised when they missed breakfast as well. And it was lunchtime again before the two reappeared and… gods, they bonded again… Emma’s aura was… brighter… Solas’ aura filling in gaps and tears, bound threads that had been frayed and… 

Emma’s eyes locked on him and he saw Solas smile and saw his aura flare in reassurance as he took a step away from her. Emma bit her lip and approached him nervously, her aura flaring in open uncertainty and fear… she was scared but… there was also hope. She chewed on her lip as she looked up at him with her… ancient eyes.

“What’s up, Em?” Damon asked, giving her a reassuring smile. 

“I-“ she looked over at Cass, who was watching them. “I- I lost it… my- my scar.”

Oh. He held out his left hand, palm up, showing the blank skin, her silver line gone. “Me too.” 

She looked at his palm and he saw tears starting to gather in her glowing, silver eyes. “Can- can I- we… get the-them back?”

He felt… gods she wanted to redo their pact… after everything… she was… she was Ancient, had been through so much, seen so much, and she wanted to re-establish their pact. He… impulsively grabbed her into a hug. “Yes! Yes, sisters forever, EmTi.” He pulled her away far enough to look at her. “Like, now? Or-”

“Can...” she swiped at her eyes with her sleeve and looked back at Del, who was looking at them with a strange expression. “Can Babala be there?” 

He blinked, but shrugged. “Sure, I mean…” He glanced at Del in question. “You… okay with blood magic?” Then an idea occurred to him. “Oh! Can I make a request too, Em?” 

She nodded, a bright smile lighting up her face… and oh gods, it was so, so beautifully wonderful to see. 

“Sols gave me one of the seeds from his white tree. Can… when we link up… can we sing it grown? In the valley?” 

“I- I can try…” she looked down at her stump as if missing something. “I’m- I'm still…” 

“Sokay. I have your back, Em.” He said softly. “What’s mine is yours, you know that, right?” 

She smiled and nodded… “Then… can I... borrow a little... after?”

“Of course.” He hesitated, unsure if she’d want but… “I learned how to transfer memories. If you want… the twins…” 

She gasped, hand going to her mouth. “Yes! Yes, please.” She paused, then added. “In return I can give you Gaelic.”

He grinned and hugged her again. “Blood and memory?”

“Blood and memory, song and bargain.” She snorted. “Oh, Aunt Gemma would be tickled pink, me using the old ways.” 

Del was still staring at them with that odd expression, and started when Damon looked at him. “You okay?” 

Del closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes… I am just-“ he laughed and pulled Beth into a one armed hug. “I never expected to see… both of you again.” Emma looked back at Del with a curious expression before her aura flared in realization.

“We’re… both here.” she murmured. “Oh.”

Damon closed his eyes and bent to press a kiss to the top of Emma’s head. She had spent… so long thinking he was dead. “Let’s… get that seed and go to the valley. I found the spot… over the vault. Good sun. Plenty of water.” 

“That sounds familiar.” Solas murmured. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit Content can be found in Virtually Unspoken, chapter 6 heh


	6. Chapter 6

Cass… she tried. She really did, but… she had reached her blood magic limits with the ritual that brought Emma back. And with Solas. And… Yeah okay, Damon actually used blood magic a lot more than he originally thought…

Damon understood, her faith was… important to her. So she was staying back in the main castle with the kids while he and Emma, and everyone who was even mildly curious what a blood pact looked like followed them out to the valley. 

Which was basically everyone. Even-  _ oh gods _ \-  _ The Elrond  _ wanted to see. 

“Here.” He stuck the shovel into the ground. “Directly above the vault.” There was a small pond nearby and plenty of sunlight. He looked at Em with a smile and turned a chunk of earth over.

She looked back at Del and pulled out her House of Golden Flower dagger and Damon was quite purposefully not jealous as he loosened enough earth for a rapidly growing tree to root in. 

“Damon.” 

He glanced up at Del’s voice and… froze… Del was holding out a bundle wrapped in gold cloth, a small smile playing at his mouth. “Tradition… each of mine received one.”

Damon accepted the bundle with a grin that quickly turned into slack jawed awe as he unwrapped a… Holy. Crap. A dagger with Glorfindel’s sigil on the hilt. Just like Em’s, just like Del’s… but… his. He could not help the strangled noise he made in the back of his throat. “Holy shit.” He looked at Del and… he had no words… he was  _ awegratitudefamilyhonoredthankyouthankyou! _ He may have squeaked. 

Del chuckled and reached over, flicking his jaw closed before looking at Emma and chuckling. “You would think I would know not to bet against you by now.” 

Emma smiled and made a ‘gimme’ gesture and Del laughed and tossed her a sovereign before moving back to stand with Beth. Emma blew out a breath and looked up at him. “Ready, lil’ bro?” 

He swallowed. Forced his brain to reboot, and carefully knelt by the hole and set the tree seed inside it. He looked at her consideringly, then shrugged. “Right hand okay this time? Might have to cross Solas’ and the fate lines.” 

Emma bit her lip in thought before smiling softly and nodded. “Yeah… yeah that-that’ll work.”

Damon unsheathed the dagger that- Holy shit, Glorfindel!- Babala had given him and held it up over the seed with his left hand, slicing a line across his right palm that intersected Solas’ green line. He held his hand out and left the dagger up for her.

The Emma he grew up with… that disappeared six years ago, would have hesitated, thought about it carefully, before committing. But this Emma… she didn’t hesitate to slide her palm against the blade’s edge… not even flinching as blood began to well up from the cut.

“Blood Sister.” He said softly and she gave him a small knowing smile, as she took the dagger gently from his hand and tipped the blade so their joined blood dripped from the tip and onto the seed of the white tree. 

Blood. 

“Laurelin. Telperion.” She whispered faintly as she handed him the dagger back and then gripped his bloody hand with her own. “Blood sisters.” Her eyes suddenly looked… ancient as she softly began to sing. “How can you see into my eyes like open doors? Leading you down, into my core, Where I've become so numb, without a soul. My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold. Until you find it there, and lead it, back, home.”

He smiled at the familiar song, one of the few she wouldn’t complain about when he played. One they both liked. He could feel their link regrowing, reforming, frayed and torn strands weaving back into the solid tether between them. He joined the song, the softer version without the meme rap. “Wake me up inside… Wake me up inside, Call my name and save me from the dark. Bid my blood to run, Before I come undone… Save me from the nothing I've become…”

He felt a sudden lurch of his aura, their magic singing towards each other through the link, meeting and resonating till it felt like he might be consumed by the brilliant light of their magics. As one, they channeled their lights into the tree, singing together,  _ together _ . “Now that I know what I'm without, You can't just leave me. Breathe into me and make me real… Bring me to life! Wake me up inside, Wake me up inside.  Call my name and save me from the dark… Bid my blood to run, Before I come undone… Save me from the nothing I've become, Bring me to life!”

The tree was growing between them, singing and thriving between their magics, their lights harmonizing and together, sisters, family, blood, protection and loyalty and love. Together. “Frozen inside, without your touch… Without your love, darling, Only you are my light Among the dead!”

The tree split, two trunks growing strong and fast on either side of their joined hands, singing and glowing with their magic. “I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems… Got to open my eyes to everything. Don't let me die here! Bring, me, to, life! Wake me up inside, Wake me up inside!  Call my name and save me from the dark … Bid my blood to run, Before I come undone, Save me from the nothing I've become! Bring me to life…” 

Song.

A branch of the trees bent under their song, twining and circling the stump of Emma’s arm before detaching and coiling around her shoulder. He did not question it, it felt right. The notes of their song trailed off in the air, but they were still linked, and he carefully copied every memory of his time with the children, every scraped knee, every lullaby, every first step and word and missed moment and wrapped them in their bright magic and sent them to Emma. She let out a gasp, then a moment later her fiery magic washed over his mind with her knowledge of Gaelic. 

Memory.

Bargain.

They stayed linked for a moment longer. “Blood and Memory, song and bargain. Blood sisters.” Before they drew their magics back into their own auras and unclasped their hands. The cuts were healed, a silver line in its place on his palm, crossing Solas’ green line, and a gold line across hers. Damon stepped back to look at the tree… and blinked. The tree started white at the base, but then split into two trunks about three feet up, one trunk glowing-  _ glowing _ silver, the other glowing gold, so bright it hurt to look at almost. But… it didn’t hurt to look at, because it was… their light, their magic. 

“That’s… trippy.” He murmured, then looked back at those watching.

Everyone was looking at them in mixed awe and confusion but Ab- Elrond’s eyes were transfixed on the tree, whispering something in quenya that he couldn’t make out and Del… Glorfindel… Laurefindel was on his knees, tears streaming down his face, though he smiled… smiled as if something miraculous just happened. As if…

Damon glanced at the tree, then at Emma, who glowed silver, and himself, who glowed gold, who Glorfindel had called him Laurelin… Emma had said… “Em? Did we…? Mando’s...” 

“Prophecy.” She finished and shrugged the shoulder with the curled silver and gold branches on it, and they flowed down the stump of her arm and formed into a glowing arm, mixed and interwoven colors of the trees. She flexed the fingers, then smiled grimly. “I know how to kill the evanuris.” 

  
  
  
  
  


Del felt a horrible sense of familiarity when he walked into the ‘underforge’ to find Damon’s work area covered in papers and papers and open books spread across the floor. Damon himself was leaned over his desk, drawing something and muttering under his breath, before turning and fiddling with something on his workbench.

Damon did not even look up from his drawings when Del drew close, instead muttering and snapping his fingers, before going to a book and flipping through it.

“Shh. He’s about to have a breakthrough.” A… well, it looked like a small… dwarf… but, no it was a dwarf, said. One of the ‘modern’ ones. “He always gets like this just before a breakthrough. He ate about an hour ago, so don’t worry. Hey, you’re one of those fae right? I met your wife, she’s nice. Pretty hair. Could I maybe get a sample of your skin? Oh no, that sounded creepy. It’s not really…” the dwarf looked down and laughed nervously. “So yeah… he ate.”

Damon hissed and moved back to his work bench and drummed his fingers against its cluttered surface. 

“How long has he been like this?” Del hadn’t seen him since the… the trees were restored, and that was two days ago.

“About a day and a half, the Seeker will probably come drag him off before night fall. She doesn’t let him skip more than one night of sleep.” The dwarf bounced on her feet excitedly. “He’s really quite something. I have fun trying to keep up with his mind. He’s talking about the mundane manipulations of ambient magic into a solidified and contained beam of light in order to…” She trailed off sheepishly. “Sorry, you probably don’t care about all of that. Um. I’m Dagna. The Arcanist for Fenvhenan.” 

He smiled down at her and nodded. “Hello Dagna the arcanist, I’m called Del.” 

“Oh! You are one of the fae then! Damon’s talked a lot about you! Did your wife really punch you in the face when you met? Beth just started laughing when I asked her, but Damon says it’s family tradition and that the Seeker punched him too, and...” She inhaled and blushed.

Damon hummed and flipped through another book before speaking. “Do we have more copper wire? No, not copper, probably gold, maybe a gold-copper alloy…” He began rummaging through a dresser, pulling out coils of metal wires and inspecting them while muttering under his breath. “Gold and copper for conductivity, just need a focus, not quartz, resonates well but is too brittle… something receptive…” 

“Yes. She punched me. Apparently she was on a ladder.” Del watched his grandson work, feeling suddenly very old at the familiar sight of obsessive genius. 

Dagna snorted. “Ah, that makes sense you’re a bit… tall.” 

  
  
  
  


She was back… it was still hard to believe. Emma was back. But she was… broken. Loghain had held back, had allowed the others to care for her. He knew what she needed was her family… Solas, Damon, and her children. He could wait… If she even... He wasn't- 

He replaced his recently borrowed volumes to the the library shelf. Hamish huffed from the corner that Pavus used to haunt, the hound had decided to take over the abandoned plush chair.

“And you call yourself a warhound.” He grumbled at the spoiled hound. He was too soft on it, but it was… from her. A gift just to make him… happy. “One would think you're a pampered Orlesian lap rat."

Hamish gruffed and shifted his weight. Loghain chuckled and looked over the shelf for another book… he had read just about everything already but perhaps-

"You've been avoiding me." 

He turned at the voice and froze at the sight of Emma. She was different… the short hair didn’t seem right but… then again she had changed a lot. Older, sadder, quicker to see things. 

“You needed time.” He turned back to the shelf and returned the book he was looking over before looking back at her.

"I need family." She said quietly. "I didn't fight and bleed my way back to be avoided by my father." 

He searched the titles as if they held an answer. He had… grown fond of her. Had truly begun to think of her as a daughter. When she had gone… When she had gone he had found himself lost, had focused on protecting her children. But while he was included in the ‘family’ meals and the Moon Runs, while the children still called him Babala, there had been… distance. A tense formality between him and Amelan and Fen’Harel. Amelan was as… kind as ever, and had an arrangement with Morrigan where she would fly in to ‘consult’ every couple of months and he would have a week or so with Kieran, but… he had held no illusions that he was anything more than a… very loyal guard for their children. A useful name. 

But she was back now. And she was… “I think you no longer need that rumour.” He said quietly, focusing intently on a book of advanced artillery.

“You’re right.” She said flatly.

He could not help it. He flinched at her flat dismissal of him. And then flinched again when her hand touched his arm. 

“I don’t need a rumor. You claimed me as yours. And I claimed you as mine. You’re my father. Family.” She poked him sharply, and when he turned she stepped closer and hugged him. “So stop moping, father mine.” 

He couldn’t help it… she was back and… he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to her hair. “You-you…” he couldn’t get the words to come out… but she probably knew. “I don’t like the hair… too dark… you look like me.”

She let out a choked laugh. “I… thought that when I did it. Wanted to look like a raven, but then I looked in the mirror and thought, ‘oh shoot, I look like dad’.” 

He huffed a wet laugh. He knew he was crying… when she had… he thought… 

“It doesn't look that bad does it?” She gave a nervous little laugh. “At least I don’t look Orlesian, right?” 

“Oh Maker, I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He felt a wisp of her healing magic run through his body, but gentle… soothing, it a way it had never been before.

“Naneth?” A voice… the younger of the elves they woke, called out from the stairs. 

He started to pull away from her but she held tightly. “I’m up here my not so little leaf.” She looked up at him with a smile. “Have you met your grandson?” 

He shoo k his head… he had seen Legolas, the first Legolas apparently, but mostly in passing. The… elf had spent most of his time avoiding Solas and… “I have not spoken with him yet.”

The Elf in question reached the top of the stairs and Emma grinned at him. “Well here’s your chance.” Then turned to… her son. “Legolas… meet your other grandfather not so many times removed.”

Legolas came over to them, giving him a puzzled look before smiling apologetically and offering a hand. “Forgive me, had I known I would have introduced myself sooner.”

Seeing the elf next to Emma was… sobering. To see the resemblance in the two completely different people… One of which had been unearthed from an ancient vault... "We were all a bit… confused at the time. I'm not as excited about being shot as Damon." 

Emma snorted. “I don’t think anyone besides Bull is as excited about being shot as Damon is.” 

  
  
  


Dorian was nervous, not that he would admit such a thing out loud, but Am-, no, Damon, Damon had… invited him to Fenvhenan, saying that there were some people he needed to meet. He had been hesitant to accept, it was terribly out of character nowadays, but Damon had added a postscript to the invitation that said that Bull remained in the castle. 

Bait accepted. So he travelled through the horrid Inbetween, and straightened his robes as he stepped into the… very lively air of Fenvhenan. It felt as if someone had brought the fade into the place. The fade was always close here, but it was… much more pronounced now. A quick check that he wasn’t in a dream, and he left the Eluvian room, only to come face to… chest? With an elf? That couldn’t be an elf.

An elf? As tall as Bull? Frowning at him. “What are you doing in here?”

“What are you?” Dorian blurted out. Elves didn’t come that big, that broad, that… glowy. He realized that was rude and tried to cover. Slightly. “Doing here? What are  _ you _ doing here? This area is for friends and family of Amelan only.” 

The… elf, that couldn’t be an elf. Was that one of the spirits Fen’Harel was so fond of? The being suddenly smiled, and Fasta Vass, he was beautiful. Golden and- “Ah, so we both are allowed here. I am Damon’s many greats grandfather Del.” The Golden Giant being held out a hand. “And you?” 

Dorian blinked, feeling a little dazed, but accepted the hand automatically. “Magister Dorian Pavus, friend of the family.” Damon’s… grandfather… an elf… giant… golden… Elf… “You’re an elf!” That came out of his mouth instead of the ‘pleasure to meet you’.

The Golden elf smiled, terribly amused, and reached up to touch his ears. “Yes, so it seems. I was afraid it might not be noticeable.” 

“He’s a fae.” a woman’s voice dragged his gaze from the being. It was a human woman, with dark black eyes and wild, curly black hair, and a soft Starkhaven accent. “Eldar fae. They’re a bit different than the modern fae.” 

The- Del rolled his eyes but he was smiling fondly… “Beth… must you?”

The woman shrugged. “I’ve been in three different courts, love, seen all different kinds. You may sort yourselves as you wish, but fae you are.” The tiny woman marched up to him and held out a hand. “Beth. Also Damon’s many greats grandmother.” 

He took her hand, still… processing. “Fae? As in Damon’s horrid stories of trickster beings that I must never give my name to? Or accept food from? Or any of the other ridiculous rules for not becoming ensnared by a fictional being?” 

The small woman smiled brightly. “Exactly! At least someone has some sense around here.”

“Hey, Babala, have you seen my- Oh, hey Dorian.” Damon looked up from a paper and smiled at him. “See you met my grandparents.” 

Dorian looked between the very human woman… the Golden ‘fae’ that looked like an… incredibly tall, broad elf… and Damon… “Blue?” 

Damon grinned with all of his teeth. “Gold.  _ The _ first gold.” 

Dorian blinked again… Damon didn’t lie. Never lied. “have you… been drinking? Because I- I would like to sample whatever you got your hands on.” 

“Oh, this gets better.” Damon laughed, the evil man, laughed, and stuck his head out the door to call out. “Hey, Legolas, come meet a family friend.”

“I have met Legolas.” Dorian protested faintly, but instead of the tiny elf child  _ he  _ knew was Legolas, another… tall, broad, elf? Fae? Being? Came in the door. 

“Uncle?” The fae, he was just going to call them fae because that was  _ not _ an elf, And-  **_Uncle_ ** _?! _

“Legolas, the first,” Damon said with a delighted grin. “My gold nephew. Legolas, meet Dorian, a family friend. Bull’s Kadan.” 

The fae turned to him and smiled… fasta vass where they all so… this? “Pleased to meet you, do you prefer ‘Dorian?’ Uncle has a habit of improperly naming people.” 

That… was exactly the sort of trick Damon said a theoretical fae would use to get one’s full name. “Yes. Dorian. I go by Dorian.” His reeling mind caught up with… several sentences ago. “Gold nephew? How?” 

The… Legolas the first, smiled mischievously. “I’m my father’s firstborn and my mother’s last.” 

That… “That explained nothing.”

“He’s Emma’s youngest kid.” Damon said brightly. The golden fae and the human were watching their conversation like it was a play in a theater. 

This was… Dorian held up his hand … “stop… just hold on… I need a drink… several, until I am incredibly drunk to understand this… this.” He gestured widely at the two… Fae.

“Oh, it gets worse, laddie.” The human woman said softly, with humor. “I’ll go fetch Miwen, shall I?” 

“I got it.” Damon said, still with that terribly amused smile, and lifted his hand and… it glowed silver. Silver… as it hadn’t since… 

A dark yet colorful head, like raven feathers in sunlight, popped around the corner. “Damo-?“ The speaker froze and silver eyes locked on him. “D-Dorian?” She broke into a brilliant smile just like…

“Emma?” He felt faint. She moved faster than he was prepared for and she… He might… actually faint. She was  _ hugging _ him. “Emma?” 

“Hello,  _ mother _ .” The one called Legolas said with a smirk. 

She looked up and then narrowed her eyes at the fae. “Have you all been teasing him?” 

Legolas grinned unrepentantly and Damon was… giggling. “Of course not! We were just doing family introductions!” 

_ That _ … that could not have come from... “you poor darling.” He tried to joke but… Emma…  _ Emma _ was here! She was back!? 

Emma snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“Ai. I had four from that.” The woman called Beth said and flicked her fingers at the… giant golden fae, who… blushed.

He… he… he needed a drink… and Bull.


	7. Chapter 7

Damon walked through the room and paused when he saw Solas-who-was-actually-Thranduil, Loghian, Del, and Abe- Elrond sitting awkwardly in the Rotunda. They all had books, and they all looked extremely similar to a bunch of kids at a sleepover that desperately wanted to talk but were too shy to. 

He gasped as a common denominator pinged in his mind. “Don’t any of y’all move!”

They all blinked at him as he turned and ran up to the library, digging through the ‘research’ chest that Danielle kept the- There.

He jumped over the railing, using his magic to catch himself right before he hit the floor, enjoying Elrond’s shocked intake of breath, that just as quickly turned into an exasperated exhale. “I thought that was simply a ‘Miwen’ thing.”

Del gave a wry laugh and shook his head. “Family tradition. Falling off of high places and surviving.” 

He set the box on the table with a ‘ta da’ gesture. “Risk! Thedas style!” 

Solas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Isa’ma’lin, I don’t think-”

“Nope! You an’ dad may trounce the kids at it, but there are- were you technically a general, Elrond? Eh, minimum three out of four of y’all were generals.” He gestured at the box again. “The rules are written out, I am fully prepared to resort to bribery to see y’all play it.” 

Del narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I’m listening…”

Damon mulled it over before offering. “Dessert of choice to the winner.” 

Solas leaned towards the box slightly. “Even the cheese cakes?”

“Dessert. Of. Choice.” Damon grinned and held the rule book out in offer..

Elrond plucked the papers from his hand and scanned through them before humming. “This is promising… though the board seems small.”

Five hours later, A very amused Beth found them as Solas and Elrond argued over the merits of trying to take over a small valley instead of a riverbed, and Del and Loghain were fighting a war of attrition in the plains. They had transformed the entire Rotunda into a mock map with chalk and stacks of books for mountains, and the battles were fierce, the alliances skillfully managed, and there was still not a clear winner. Damon was having the time of his life watching four of the heroes of his nerd life try to outmaneuver each other while he worked on knitting a shawl for Cass. He patted the space on the couch next to him and pointed at the extra yarn and needles in his long neglected craft basket. “Come join me in the ocean, Mamaela. None of them have sea forces yet.”

As one, all four of the players paused, then turned to look at him thoughtfully. Beth picked over the scattered books and pieces and perched on the couch as Glorfindel, who had firm control of the west coast, suddenly began withdrawing some of the pieces from the back of his forces and moved them towards the coast. 

When Emma stumbled in Solas and Del were both in the middle of a battle for the bay and Loghain and Elrond were feinting at each other through a mountain range. Her eyes took in the scene before her and a wide grin split her face in realization. “Oh My God! You got them to play Risk?” As she moved to examine the layout. 

“He convinced us with a promise of baked goods, but now I am determined that I  _ will _ get that mountain range.” Elrond said distractedly. 

“We’re the sea monsters!” Beth said happily over her knitting. “Come join us in the ocean!” 

Solas paused and looked at Emma pleadingly. “Ma’lath, mir’nin-?”

Emma smiled mischievously, “Elrond, watch the pass there.”

Elrond's gaze snapped over to where Solas had been slowly edging his infantry back in the guise of retreat from Del’s forces. Solas shot her a betrayed look. “Emma’lath?!”

“You asked me to help.” She giggled.

“Stop  _ helping _ .” He grumbled.

She held her hands up with a grin. “No more helping. I am just going to watch and enjoy y’all forgetting that the surface of the earth isn’t all there is to move in.” 

“The dwarves!” Elrond and Loghain said at the same time Solas and Del said triumphantly. “Dragons!”

Damon gasped in realization. “Oh. My. Gods… I need to set up DnD... Em! DnD! Them!”

“Yessssssssssssss.” Emma grinned and raised her hand. “I call dungeon master.”

“Let me first win this battle before you devise another.” Loghain muttured, but his lip twitched a smile. The dude was having the time of his life.

Damon summoned a notebook and turned to Em with a grin. They could rehash the DnD rules while watching the drama on the floor. This life was awesome. 

  
  
  


Legolas was taking full advantage of spending time with his sisters now that he wasn’t literally growled at every time he drew near them. It was still strange to look at Solas… who was his Ada… Their feas were the same, Naneth had shown him how to see feel and … it was his Ada. But small… which was somewhat funny if he thought about it. 

“Hold your elbow higher, that's it.” He adjusted Emy’s arm slightly and moved to nudge Leggy’s foot back a few inches. “Wider stance… it will help stabilize your aim.”

Gaelathe looked over the other two carefully before mimicking the stance exactly. “Like a tree…” 

“You elves and your trees.” Isy said in a comically deep voice as she tried to hold her stance, but kept breaking into giggles. 

“I’ze not an eff.” Ant said happily as he tried to stack a line of stones to the side. “I like trees. And fire.” 

Where one ‘wolf child’ went, the others were sure to appear. Legolas had started with just helping the twins with their bows, and somehow… all of them were here now. 

“Everyone in this family likes trees and fire.” Danielle murmured over her book. She had shown up with Rain and Rochelle in tow, and the three were reading some Qunlat to Common readers to the side. Ash was making faces at Isy from the fence where he was performing what he called ‘gymnastics’ in order to hone his balance. He had done something similar in the Greenwood as an adolescent. 

Legolas found them… overwhelming at times. The chatter and activity and jokes and the  _ magic _ . At minimum one of them was speaking or moving or doing some magic at any time, and it was chaotic. He enjoyed it, had always wanted siblings growing up, had enjoyed the company in the fellowship. He liked… being around people. And his siblings were boisterous and fun and popped up under his elbow and stole his dessert and put paint in his boots. It was overwhelming, but no less enjoyable. The children brought joy and life to their surroundings. There had been too few elflings in the middle and the few born in Valinor were rightfully kept in their family estates.

“Isy, unlock your knees, you will want them loose so you can move easily.” He said as he moved behind Gaelathe and raised his elbow slightly. “Alright, on my word I want you all to take a breath and on your exhale release.” 

Each of them took loud inhales and Isy blew out her breath exaggeratedly and her arrow nicked the edge of the target twenty feet away. She wrinkled her nose. “Magic is easier to aim.” 

Gaelathe and Emy had both managed to hit the edge of the target solidly enough for the arrow to stick, and Emy looked pleased with herself even as Gaelathe just looked thoughtful… Leggy whooped loudly as his arrow was on the outer ring of the center. “I’ll get my full name yet!” 

“Well done.” He clapped his shoulder lightly and nudged Isy who looked close to moping. “A bow takes practice, it is not as easy as it seems.”

Isy nodded and set her jaw before pulling another arrow from the stand to give it another shot.

“Why aren’t you a woof?” Ant suddenly piped up. “Mamae and Babae are woofs.”

“He smells like he’d be a deer.” Gaelathe said, as if that wasn’t anything strange to say. 

“But he isn’t one!” Ant frowned. “He should be something. He’s a grown up!”

Ash made a few hand gestures, that he had yet to learn completely, and Isy looked offended. “He would  _ not _ be a halla!”

Leggy looked offended in turn. “W’a’s wrong with being a halla!? Mom is learning to be a halla!”

“Yeah, but she was Dalish before.” Emy said with a shrug. “He’s like… the opposite of Dalish.” She actually leaned in and sniffed his arm. “Hart?” 

“What?” They were getting difficult to follow… it was like the halflings all over again.

“They’re trying to guess what your other form is.” Danielle supplied helpfully.

Legolas knew Naneth and Ada to shift forms, but he had never felt an inclination to try… magic and manipulation of his fea was nothing he had ever been inclined to study. Save for listening to the trees, the world around him, and in combat to enhance his speed and agility. “I have no other form.” He said simply as he adjusted Isy’s hold on her bow. 

Isy’s head snapped around to gape at him, and he realized that all of his siblings were staring at him like he had gone mad. Ant looked almost… upset. “But you’re a grown up!”

Was there a rite of passage he was not aware of? 

Danielle smirked and then looked back at her book, obviously leaving him to the others. Ash made a few hand gestures and he picked up ‘not’ ‘use’ and ‘head’ and he felt he might have been insulted playfully before Gaelathe frowned thoughtfully. “You don’t like to think about breathing.”

“But… he’s a grown up!” Ant said. “I gotta wait till I get big and he’s big but he isn’t a woof!” 

He was starting to feel uncomfortable by their conversation and tried to steer it back to their lesson. “Why don’t you give it another try, Leggy…? you might hit the center this time.”

Leggy looked at him in puzzlement. “I was gonna try and have the same second shape… but… you don’t have one.” He frowned then lifted the bow, falling into the correct form. 

He was unsure why they were so fixated on him not having a second form. “I have never had the need.”

“It’s not about needing it.” Gaelathe said before trying to mimic Leggy’s positioning. “It’s about… feeling it. Papa says I’ll probably end up a cat of some kind. It feels right when I think about it.”

“I wanna be a dragon!” Isy said. “But I’ll probably end up a wolf first. I dream about it. A bright red wolf.”

“I dream of a white hart.” Emy said. “There’s teeth around me, but they’re for me, not after me.” 

Ash bared his teeth and clicked them together and Ant giggled and did the gesture back. 

Legolas silently nudged Isy’s foot back and tapped her knee until she unlocked them. All of these children, save two, were mages, casually casting spells as one would breathe. His little sisters had cast no less than seventeen spells between them from the walk from the family rooms to the archery range and throughout lessons.

Rochelle murmured something in Qunlat, and Rain nodded with a smile, then frowned at her hand until a little wisp of energy flared, then disappeared, they both bent back over the book and Rain pointed at something. “Ah, magic.” Rochelle murmured. “They can’t just  _ say _ it.” 

He was not jealous… he just felt… somehow inadequate.

“You have to learn there is air above the water before you can walk.” Gaelathe said.

Emy rolled her eyes. “Do or do not.” She giggled when Gaelathe sent a spark of magic at her. “You’re the one trying to be all wise!” 

Isy’s mouth suddenly fell open. “Oh my gods! She never taught you! That’s why you’re a grown up but not a wolf! You don’t know how to use your magic!” 

It was strange to blush at the words of a child. Naneth had offered… in Valinar but he hadn’t wanted to make a fool of himself…

Emy suddenly grabbed at his sleeve. “C’mon! We gotta get you to Master Panelan! He can teach you! He taught us till Babae was better enough to help!” She started to pull at him, then stopped and frowned. “Or papa? Because he was a grown up when he got magic? He might be better.” 

“Papa exploded and hid Skyhold.” Gaelathe pointed out.

“Well… Babae obviously didn’t teach him!” Isy said in exasperation, and she stomped her foot, and fire licked out from under her toes. 

Ash grinned and made a few hand gestures, ‘you’ ‘able’ and ‘learn’, and Gaelathe looked at him thoughtfully. “We can teach you. Only as much as we know, but we can teach you.” 

He was suddenly swarmed by his little siblings, all of them clamoring excitedly about different spells they knew. He glanced at Danielle helplessly, and she didn’t even look up from her book as she smirked. “He has to find his center first.” 

“Ai! I don’t know if I even can-” He started to try and protest, but Isy pointed at him with a gap toothed grin. 

“Magic takes practice, it is not as easy as it seems.” She echoed his words triumphantly. Then whispered. “I think you’ll be a bird.” 

  
  
  


Emma was having trouble finding Legolas in the afternoons. It had been funny at first, because Gimli was as close to visibly fretting as he would ever deign to be, but he and the Littles would disappear every afternoon until supper time and the other kids weren’t saying anything, even when she gave them the Look that always worked on Legolas. Legolas himself wasn’t saying anything either, even when fixed with the Look, instead blushing and quickly finding excuses to be somewhere else. 

So she slipped into her raven form and followed Gaelathe and Emy as they raided the library and then marched off with a stack of books each and a subtle ‘notice me not’ spell instead of going to bed like they were supposed to. They went down through the rotunda and into the hallway where her room had been before, and Gaelathe pressed his bracelet charm to the door and slipped in when it opened. 

They left the door open and she heard them whispering quietly, a few giggles interspersed. Then… she heard Legolas gasp softly. She eased to the door and peeked in and… there was her Little Leaf, sitting in the center of a pile of pillows, the Littles all crowded around him with smiles and encouraging murmurs. He had his hands cupped, and in them, was a shaky wisp of pale spirit magic. 

“I did it!” He said, his face bright with childlike excitement and wonder.

“You did it!” His younger siblings cried as they threw themselves at him for a group hug. 

Emma easied away from the door and made her way back up the stairs, all the while smiling brightly knowing that the Littles were trying to teach their big little brother how to use his magic.

Solas had just come into the rotunda when she reached the top of the stairs, his arua rippling in slight worry. “The children are not in their rooms.”

Emma smiled and nodded before wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing her face to his chest. “They are with Legolas.” She let their bond sing with her contentment and joy. 

Solas’ arms came around her and everything felt as it should be. “With Legolas?” His voice was soft but curious. 

She hummed an affirmative and smiled into his shirt. “They are teaching him how to use his magic.”

Solas’ aura immediately perked in excitement before shifting to hurt and shame. “He never expressed his desire to learn.”

Emma soothed his aura with her own. “He probably did not wish to cause you pain.” She said quietly, reaching up to cup his cheek and make him look at her. “He was content not to know… but now he is surrounded by people who can do what he only believed a few select beings were capable of doing.”

Solas nodded and looked at the stairs longingly, “Perhaps I could-“

Emma twisted her hand in his shirt as a precautionary measure. “Oh no, let them be. The Littles are enjoying teaching him and they are bonding. Let him surprise you. If I know our son, he will wait until he can.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Damon had sent the invitations, purposefully making sure that their friends… Emma’s friends received an earlier date. Officially, it was a ball celebrating the seventh anniversary of the Sealing of the Sky, as well as a chance to renegotiate trade agreements and such political stuff, a break from Fenvhenan's isolation policies. Enough to bring… people in despite… things. Unofficially, Emma wanted to see her friends, and he was willing to suffer an entire ball in order to make sure that happened. 

He sent a letter to Alistair and Josephine… he had to be extremely careful how he worded things, but it must have worked because he got the official letter of acceptance from them.

Varric… Varric was the easiest to talk into coming, he was the unofficial uncle of the kids and he absolutely loved them but… when ‘Amelan’ started taking kids… well Damon never blamed him for stopping his visits. Didn’t blame any of them.

Cullen and Neira weren’t difficult to convince to come… Damon had funded Cullen’s project to help rehabilitate Templar’s from their lyrium addictions. Neira and he got married under Emma’s tree. They had adopted Kenny and took him with them when they moved to open their… clinic of sorts, taking Cole with them to help. Damon wasn’t even sure they believed the rumors of Amelan’s fosterings with how isolated they kept themselves. 

Vivienne, of course, was the first to accept… she never missed the anniversary, throwing her own celebrations and balls every year, and Damon was kind of flattered that she had obviously scrapped her own planning to come to his near scandalously hastily announced ball. Sera sent her acceptance back scribbled on the invite, with a note that her ‘Widdles’ had better be there or arrows. Bull and Dorian were obviously coming, Hawke sent back a very incredulous ‘how did you even find me? But yeah I’ll come’.

Morrigan sent back a curt acceptance, with an implied, ‘how did you even find me’.

Leliana… A very surprised Zevran showed up at Skyhold’s gates, looked at him in puzzlement, said, “Well. To be honest I didn't expect to get this far. We will be there.”, and left. Shocked he managed to get through the barrier without a guide, no doubt. 

So… they were all coming, but none of them knew Emma was here. Well, besides Dorian and Bull. 

He received word that they had all gathered at MoonCall to be led in officially, and got ready. As the Amelan of Fevhenan, he had to officially greet the Divine and the King and Queen of Ferelden in the courtyard of Skyhold. Which meant shinies. 

Fortunately, he was Amelan of Fenvhenan, which meant he didn’t have to adhere to conventional fashions. So he painted his horns gold, Cass and Emma braided his hair into dozens and dozens of little braids with colorful threads and stones woven into them, he lined his eyes in gold, painted his claws gold, and wore every bracelet and armband that struck his fancy. He decided on a flowing black and gold skirt, leaving his chest bare, except for Cass' Heart, to show off his tattoos, and even the wolves got gold collars. 

Emma, mischievous and playful, transformed into a silver raven and sat on his shoulder to complete the look. He loved her so much. Had missed her. It… made his heart ache to think she had been Muninn, had kept as close as she could while torn and alone, thinking he was going to die at the end of it. 

Cass was wearing a gold gown with black trim, her hair braided with almond blossoms and leaves from the white tree. She was… breathtaking. With her on his arm, the wolves at their heels, and Emma on his shoulder, they went to greet their guests at the gate. He heard Mamaela Beth’s breath catch as they exited the room, saw a flash of unease in her dark eyes before she blinked and smiled at him. “Oh child, you look every inch the fae king.” She murmured in gaelic. She and Del were in matching tunics and cloaks, blue and gold and regal, their hair braided back with gold ribbon and leaves from the white tree.

He gave her a sharp smile and replied in kind, grateful that Emma had given him the family language. “Right now, that is exactly what I am, First Mother of Mine.” He gave her a bow, gold decorated fist over the dragon around his heart. “You honor me with your presence, First Mother of Mine, First Father of Mine.”

“You look like an orc. Uncle.” Legolas snarked. He and Solas were in green and gold, though Solas kept the wolf fur. Gimli was begrudgingly in a green and gold tunic, but styled in the ‘modern’ dwarf style instead of the elvish style. 

“And that is also, exactly what I am.” He laughed. 

  
  
  
  
  


Josephine was terrified. Officially, Ferelden and Fenvhenan shared a very amicable and thriving trade network and alliance. Unofficially… she was terrified of what Damon had become… of the secretive, powerful nation that drew in every elf, tal vashoth, casteless, and mage in Thedas. This was the first ball held in the heart of Fenvhenan since its birth, and with the Amelan’s... Connections, combined with the careful balance of alliances and politics, combined with the fact that Fenvhenan had returned the fosters without any obvious reason, (though many of the returned fosters had demanded to go back to Fenvhenan and had returned under a scholarship), and she and Alistair were required to go. To not go would… sour relations. Officially. 

Their son, Duncan... they had fought, lovingly, but they had fought over what to do with them. To take them into the heart of Fenvhenan with them seemed… foolish. But to leave them behind, alone… with the elven servants and guards that remained… seemed even more foolish. In the end, they took them with them, with strict instructions to stay with one of them at all moments, no matter what. 

All of the others were at MoonCall. Varric, Sera, Madame de Fer, even Divine Victoria. Even Morrigan and her nearly grown son were there. All of them gathered in one place like that… it made her uneasy. But they were escorted by smartly armored elves in Fenvhenan colors. Black and silver. Amelan’s colors. The air felt strange, lights flickering in the corner of her eyes and a strange… buzzing feeling on her skin. The gates opened to admit them, and she half expected to see Amelan and Fen’Harel on the top of the stairs, above them, but… they were in the courtyard, beneath the white tree, level with them. 

Maker… She could see Amelan and Fen’Harel, a study of danger and power as they strode towards them, followed by their wolves. Lady Cassandra was on Amelan’s arm, beautiful in gold and black, looking very… small next to him. 

“Your majesties, King Alistair, Queen Josephine. Your worship, Divine Leliana.” Amelan spoke, his pale eyes sweeping over the group of visitors as if counting. “We are honored by your visit.” His gaze dropped to Duncan and Josephine’s heart seized in fear… but he did nothing more than smile and look back at Alistair.

“Amelan, Fen’Harel.” Alistair said rigidly.

Josephine kept her composure through the official greetings and rituals, all the way until they were in their guest quarters and the door was safely shut behind them. They had been invited to a banquet in the valley that evening. They had accepted. They were here three days earlier than the other guests. She sat on the bed and held Duncan tightly, unwilling to voice her fears in front of them… but… she looked at Alistair helplessly. 

“We all were given a different date.” He said, his hand curled in front of his mouth as he looked at her.

She nodded and pressed her face to Duncan’s hair before taking a deep breath. “Well, let us take advantage of Skyhold’s advanced bathing rooms and prepare for the banquet. I’m… sure things will… become clear then.” 

It did not become clearer. They were guided down into the valley, and the air still held that strange… substance to it, lights and color flickering beyond her ability to focus on them, and… A tree? There was a tree and it was glowing, a faint golden glow on one trunk, and the silver trunk was glowing as brightly as the moon. It… it made her think of Emma’s impossible magics. Children… oh children she hadn’t seen in years were running around and playing near the base, Damon’s wolves romping with them… Danielle and Kieran sitting and chatting in it’s silver light. Duncan looked at them longingly, but stayed next to her as she had asked him to.

Amelan was there… but he… it wasn’t Amelan. It was Damon... Damon, who had a mischievous spark in his eyes as he casually revealed… an impossibly tall, glowing… being who  _ looked _ like an elf, and claimed it was his grandfather. And his tiny… human… grandmother… and another impossibly tall, broad elf that he introduced as his nephew. All of them related by blood somehow.

Varric narrowed his eyes at… Damon. “Blot… You’re pulling our leg.” 

Hawke was staring, open mouthed at the tall, glowing being. “What are you and where can I get one…?” 

The tiny human Damon had named as Beth, stepped between them and glared. “Tah shay aguhm.” 

“S’alright, Mamaela. No one is going to try and steal your husband.” Damon chuckled before stepping forward and offering a hand to Cullen. “Good to see you, man. How’s the clinic?” 

Cullen smiled and gripped his forearm. “Good… better than good actually.” He stepped back and put an arm around Neria. Kenny was grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet at her side. Cullen smirked and jerked his chin in the direction of the other kids. “Go on.” Kenny was off like a shot, tackling what must have been Ash bodily. Duncan looked up at her, but she kept her hand on his shoulder, unwilling to risk… 

Loghain was glancing at the tree, and Morrigan tore her eyes away from the tall… being to sigh. “You can speak with him… it is not as if he doesn't know who you are.” Loghain didn’t even bother to answer before moving towards Kieran. 

Divine Victoria cleared her throat delicately, Zevran standing beside her as her ‘personal bodyguard’. “As fascinating as your… relatives are, I find myself curious as to why all of us are here.” 

Damon opened his mouth, and the silver raven on his shoulder took off with a thunder of feathers and he shut it again with a smirk. “Just a moment, if you will.” 

The children suddenly whooped and ran toward the table, the older ones following a little more sedately. The twins… they looked so much like Emma… ran to Solas and the ‘nephew’ tall elf each picking up a girl. They were both smiling like..

As one, all of them turned to watch the raven, who swooped towards the tree. It dove between the glowing trunks, and then in a flare of silver magic, a woman stepped out and landed lightly on the ground in front of them. 

A woman with glowing silver eyes, with one arm… a tiny woman who, despite her dark hair looked… like… “Emma?” Josephine gasped. 

The woman grinned and spread her hand. “Ta-da!” 

They all stared, frozen in shock, and then Varric said, “Well… shit.” 

“Mamae came back!” One of the twins shouted happily from Solas’s arms. 

Hawke abruptly sat and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What… world shattering thing is to befall us next?” 

“We gotta kill a bunch of old gods, but that’s later.” Damon said, grinning unrepentantly before going to give Emma a one armed hug. “She wanted to see all of y’all, so you can stop worrying about the nefarious reasons I lured you here for.” He said with a sad but meaningful glance at Alistair. 

They had been lured here to see Emma. Emma was back. Emma was alive… How?

Emma… and it was Emma, looked over all of them, her eyes gathering tears before her eyes fell on Duncan and she made a little squeak in her throat. “You… you had…” she seemed to give up on words and before Josephine knew what was happening Emma was… hugging her… then Alistair, who stood there looking as stunned as she felt.

“You-… you’re back…” Alistair seemed to get over his shock enough to hug her back… and he… he was starting to cry. Before he swallowed and pulled away from her, laughing slightly. “You missed my wedding… don't… don't think your miraculous reappearance gets you off the hook for that." 

“I’ll pay you back in cheese.” Emma laughed, smiling widely, then looked down and smiled at Duncan. "What's your name?" 

Duncan looked up at her, asking permission, and at her nod, politely bowed as she had taught him. "I am heir apparent Duncan Therien."

Emma smiled softly and dipped into an elegant curtsy that… Emma never had been able to do before. “Pleased to meet you, Duncan. I am Emma… your parents and I were good friends.”

"Well… now you learned to curtsey properly." The joke was faint and sounded a little more desperate than she meant it to. Emma… was back.

Emma smiled sadly. "I had a lot of time to practice, Josie."

"And refused to do unless it was to mock someone." Her old guard, Banal’ras muttered. 

“A well executed curtsy can say many things.” Vivienne said as she moved forward and in a very surprising show of affection pulled Emma in a loose embrace. “Welcome back my dear.”

“Shit, Princess.” Varric looked like he was fighting back tears himself. “Where-where’d you go?”

"Back to before the beginning, when memories were the future and the future was remembered." Cole's voice made them all look to where the spirit made real was transfixed by the tree. "The light… it makes me want to remember things I've outgrown… I met you once… you sang, because…" he blinked and shook his head. "I don't want that life back. I changed."

Emma nodded and went over to take his hand. “That’s alright… yo-you have another life now.” She said quietly. She hugged him and he smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “You don't have to remember anything unless you want to.” 

Cole nodded, then smiled. "I found the star metal for you, like you asked. One for each."

“Thank you.” She pulled away and smiled at him before turning to everyone else. “You uh… “ she suddenly giggled. “I suspect you have questions?”

"Perhaps a few." Divine Victoria murmured, her hand tight around Zevran’s forearm for support. The Crow was silent as his eyes studied Emma calculatingly.

Sera suddenly jumped forward, brandishing an arrow at Emma, who looked at it mildly, then smiled at the archer fondly. “I’m not a demon. You can stab me a little if that will help. I let Bull cut my arm.”

“She’s not a demon.” Bull huffed. “Just… as impossible and creepy as ever.” 

“Oh. Well that’s alright then, isn’t it?” Sera’s face suddenly crumpled into tears and she grabbed Emma into a hug. “You disappeared! And now you’re back and I don’t wanna think about it too hard cuz you’re more creepy and shite if I do.” 

“You’re being awful quiet over there, Morrigan.” Emma said from Sera’s shoulder.

“I… am preserving my dignity by remaining silent.” The witch said faintly. 

“What did you do to your hair?” Hawke blurted out.


	9. Chapter 9

“Cold Iron?” Del asked incredulously. 

"Cold iron didn't work on him." Beth said with a hint of confusion.

"It wasn't made from his stars." Emma said, laying out the shards on the work table, her hand covered by a thick glove. “But these will work.” 

“You’ve tested this?” Del asked warily.

Emma winced and looked away, not meeting their eyes. “Yeah… I had time.”

Damon frowned over the shards. "I'm assuming you have their true names? Cold iron won't do much more than burn if they're not invoked."

Emma hugged herself and stepped back from the table, Solas immediately stepped forward to pull her against his chest. “Ye-yeah. June… he’s Fëanor.”

_ Feanor _ . Del felt his gut clench at the name, anger he hadn’t felt in… Feanor had betrayed and abandoned them by burning the ships, forcing them to cross the Helcaraxë and Del remembered the souls they lost on the Grinding Ice, his own father being one of them. All because of Feanor’s oath.

Damon winced. "Oh boy. Guessing he'll come after us since the whole oath and light thing..." 

Emma nodded. “He was relentless… kept me moving. Andruil… is The Dark Elf Eöl.”

Del was shocked, he had been present when Eöl was thrown from Caragdûr for killing Aredhel, Turgon’s sister, that one of these ‘evanuris’ was the elf’s fea re-embodied was… disturbing. The Elf had been… contrary to everything a first born should have been. His treatment of his son and Aredhel had been loathsome. Turgon had blamed the subtle influence of Morgoth. 

Damon sucked in a sharp breath. "I’m guessing Ghilan'nan is Aredhel...?"

Emma nodded and her fea twisted in guilt and  _ I’msorryI’msorryIdidn’tknowwhatelsetodoI’msorry.  _ “Yeah. I- I had-“ she couldn’t finish and Solas shushed her and looked up. 

“Andruil was… intent on possessing me… when Falon’din... was through. Emma made a deal so I did not fall into her hands.” He closed his eyes. “She was still weakened from the… when I severed our bond to keep her from them.”

Del reflexively grabbed Beth’s hand, holding it tightly… he knew the pain of a bond lost but… to have it purposefully and forcibly ripped apart? By one’s own bonded…? Her maddened pain made horrible sense. Then to be weakened so, that she was forced to give up an innocent to keep her bonded, that had no memories of her, out of the hand of that...

"Oh Em… I'm sorry." Damon looked… heartbroken, as he crossed over to her and hugged her. “You did what you had to." 

Emma shuddered and shook her head… “Not enough.” she took a few deep breaths that Del knew were to ground herself and stepped back… her posture shifting… “Mythal and Elgar’nan are the twins, Amrod and Amras. Sylaise is the only one I haven’t been able to figure out yet. She kept things too close to her chest for me to piece it together.”

"And the other two?" Del asked, feeling concerned at the easy way Emma and Damon spoke of ancient, oh so ancient, histories. 

Emma bit her lip… “The twin souls… one who knew how to torture and corrupt an elf in such a way their fea can’t escape…twisting them.The valar lost control… he was freed again.”

Damon's face turned grey and he- oh, he had said he knew that Eldar could survive torture. "Oh. Back to the beginning… and again, he's gonna come to us because of the light..."

Dread seized Del’s heart, but that… “Morgoth.”

“Except that’s not his true name.” Damon’s mouth twisted. “Melkor. How’d… He get a hold of Manwë then?” 

“He killed Varda, Manwë was driven mad with grief… he was vulnerable… he disappeared and didn’t reappear until another few thousand years by Falon’din’s side as Dirtha’man… he was… not the same.” 

“Manwë’s Tears.” Damon said softly, staring at the star metal. “I have their names then, you have the light… Invoke, Reveal, and Strike. Someone else needs to use the Cold Iron.” He looked up at Solas. At Thranduil. 

Solas reached for one of the metal shards, then snatched his hand back with a hiss, his eyes narrowed on the shards. “I… cannot. It… it is too cold to be a burn, but it…” 

Beth made a triumphant noise. “Hah! Fae!”

Del sighed and reached for the shard and it… was cold enough to burn, sticking to his fea in a painful, freezing draw. He snatched his hand back hastily. No wonder Beth had been so shocked when he had touched the cold iron from her world. That… “That is unpleasant.”

Damon frowned and reached out to barely run his finger over one shard and snatched it away. “Dang, Emti.”

“Why I have a glove on.” She said grimly. “Congratulations, we’re fae.” 

“Hah!” Beth was grinning. 

Del groaned, he could  _ feel _ how smug she was. 

  
  
  
  


Leliana rested her hands flat on the table, smiling sweetly. “Could you say that again?”

“The veil is gonna drop, and we,” Damon gestured at Solas, Emma, Del, and Beth, “Are going to be killing the elvhen gods.”

“Ah… good to know,” Zevran mumbled from where he leaned against the wall. “I thought my age was catching up to me.” 

“Why?” Briala was visibly shocked, the outrageous statement shaking a reaction from her mask. 

Damon gave her a thin smile. “Because they hurt some people dear to me. Because they’re dangerous. Because I can. Take your pick.” 

Emma allowed her shoulder pauldron to form her glowing arm as she flipped through an ancient looking notebook filled with her own handwriting. “Briala, believe me they are not gods… they are slavers of their own people trading in power to benefit themselves. They did not care for the elvhen then, they do not now… they will actually be very… cranky when their prison falls so, for all our sakes… play nice.”

“But surely-”

“Briala.” Damon said sharply. “They care as much for elves as Tevene does. You need to do damage control. There are eight of them, and three of us capable of killing them. We don’t know if we will be able to handle them before they decide to rebrand slaves or start another war. So  _ you _ -” He pointed between Leliana, Briala, Dorian, and Alistair, “Will be doing damage control to save as many people as you can.” He hesitated. “If you survive the veil dropping.” 

“Say again?” Alistair asked quietly as he leaned against the table, his eyes hard.

“You feel that, in the air? The lights in the corner of your eyes? The heavy feeling when you breathe? How everyone who lives here seems to be moving faster than you? That is… a very small dose of what things will be like when the Veil falls.” Solas spoke carefully. 

Damon huffed. “People who live here have an eighty percent chance of having a mage child. Mages, hundred percent chance. People who live here can… channel magic even if they aren't a mage if their will is strong enough. Solas’ tree out there… it helps people adapt to the Fade. I… adapted as many kids as I could once I figured it out, took in as many people as I could… but I don’t…” 

Lelianna began to rub her temples. “So what you are saying is that when the Veil falls… or is torn down-“

“Gently removed.” Emma said reassuringly. 

Leliana gave her a disbelieving look but continued. “That people will die… from the exposure?”

“Theoretically, the dwarves will be fine. They’re resistant. Mages… should be okay as long as they’re not high on Lyrium… Templars… not so great odds. Humans… the stubborn ones might be okay. Elves should be fine. Qunari…” Damon blew out a sharp breath. “Depends how far away they got bred from dragons.” 

“It was a blood transfusion not ‘breeding’.” Emma huffed irritably.

“It was a blood transfusion that fundamentally altered their DNA and physiology, which brought about such traits as: instinctive attraction to dragons, horns and claws, aggressiveness, fire resistance, and oh, yeah, the ability to survive massive amounts of magic.” Damon said dryly. “Depending on how hard the Tamrassans tried to breed that out, they are more or less part dragon.”

“As fascinating as that is, I fear we have wandered off the main subject. Could you not have told us sooner… cuttings from the tree could have been used and planted… sparing as many as possible.” Dorian’s voice was strained and laced with frustration and no small amount of fear.

Damon sighed, feeling defensive. “Yeah, while I was juggling trying to keep the elves in Orlais from hiking off to Par Vollen, fending off a Qunari invasion, tiptoeing around the very, very cranky Dwarven king who actually has seven bounties on my head, trying not to seem too cozy with Tevinter lest the Divine have to denounce me, run my own damn country while trying to keep my brother in law from literally exploding, rebuild the Inbetween so we can actually move, and also trying to prevent the mages from taking over Fereldon and the nobles in Orlais from going on bloody murder sprees?” He paused. “Also, on a more personal note, I literally had a piece of my soul torn so…” 

“Yes, quite busy… glorious.” Dorian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What time frame are we looking at? Depending on the time we are given and the amount of mages I can scrape together we could have cuttings from the tree planted and fed magic from willing mages until they are matured… this would give as much of the populous we could reach a chance… small but it is a chance.”

“I’ve been cultivating cuttings.” Damon said quietly. “I haven't... Just been sitting on this.”

“No… you two just fell so far into your ‘Amelan’ and ‘Fen’Harel’ personas that you forgot you have friends…” Dorian huffed irritably. “Friends that needed to know these things long before the proverbial shit hit the fan.”

“I’m aware.” Damon said sharply. “I literally had sense kicked into me by a child, I’m embarrassingly, painfully aware I fucked up.” He inhaled deeply. “That was me being defensive. Let me back up.”

“The veil is coming down, whether we want it to or not. Solas and I were running on the assumption that hopefully more would survive if we controlled the fall, as opposed to just letting it collapse, as well as dealing with personal issues. We didn’t know about the tree’s effects at first. We were just… doing damage control, trying to get as many into the barrier as possible. By the time we realized the tree affected people, we had… burned some bridges during our scramble to figure out how to contain a threat we had no way of dealing with permanently. But Emma is here, and she knows how to kill the Evanuris permanently, and now we know how the tree works.”

Damon looked at the table intently. “Personal fuck ups aside, during our… isolation, I’ve put together cuttings, notes and observations about the effects, best way to grow them, and the amount of time of exposure needed to have lasting effects. For a child, one month of daily, direct contact with the tree will allow them to remain alert in the Inbetween. Three months of indirect contact, growing longer the further from the tree they sleep. For adults… it’s less consistent.” 

“And how much time do we have before...?” Alistair made an ‘exploding gesture with his fist.

Solas gave him a small apologetic smile. “Hopefully, next Satinalia. To wait longer would risk it falling itself… and that would be even more catastrophic than a guided removal.”

Alistair nodded and looked at Damon with hard eyes. “You better have a damn lot of trees.”

Damon laughed, a tad hysterically. “What do y’all think I’ve been doing with all the mages coming this way?”

“Gaspard thinks you’re raising an army.” Briala said faintly. 

“An army of gardeners.” Damon grumbled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates might... slow down a bit? We're going to try not to, but we got a wee bit distracted... So uh... check out Tiny Minstrels??? if you want???


	10. Chapter 10

The ball was beautiful. Every political leader and merchant and anyone who was anybody was there, hoping to gain an in with Fenvhenan. But Emma, Emma was just enjoying the party. It was being held in the courtyard, mage lights hanging through out the air like colorful stars, the tree fenced off with warded silver gates. Beneath the sparkling mage lights and the moons, the glitter of jewels and the colors of dresses was… beautiful. Magic amplified the musician’s playing, and the braver of the nobles danced on the floating platforms. Most stayed on the sparkling grounds. And Emma, Emma danced, enjoying the movement, the ease and peace of the action, snagging anyone who wandered too close into the next dance with her, uncaring of their station or introductions. 

She felt beautiful, and safe, and she was home. She had opened the ball by dancing with Damon, and she was enjoying the shocked and terrified looks she was gathering from those attending. Gaspard looked like he was about to be stabbed at a moments notice, and had since she had greeted him. 

“Ma’lath. You are radiant tonight.” Solas caught her around the waist, seamlessly pulling her into the steps of the next tune. “I remember watching you dance alone… I will admit jealousy for your missing partner.” He laughed quietly and pulled her closer.

“It must be strange to be jealous of oneself.” She laughed, tilting her head back to look up at him as they moved through the graceful steps. “I was remembering our dream dances.” 

He smiled and bent his head, kissing her gently in front of everyone in a public declaration. “hmm… that seems to be a bad habit of mine.”

She sent him a flare of amusement as the dance ended. “Indeed. As far as people to be jealous of, however, I can think of no-one more deserving.”

“You are flattering me.”

“Always.” She smiled and accepted the next hand held out to her. “Hello, Elrond.” 

Elrond smiled and nodded to Solas before leading her into gentle steps, holding her properly and not an inch closer than necessary but… Elrond was dancing with her! “Careful, you are about to make that embarrassing noise in my ear.”

“You should be used to it by now.” She grinned, it was strange to see Abelas’ face… but hear Elrond's fea. “Did you get to see her?”

Elrond smiled softly. “Yes… she is changed but still herself.” he looked around for a moment before looking at her and his eyes glowed faintly… the color of her fea… Celebrian.

“Hello, Celebrian.” she smiled.

“Hello Miwen.” The voice was Elrond’s but not, then he blinked and it was gone. “Forgive me. I could not be seperate from her any longer… even my patience it seems, has its limits.”

“Oh, believe me. I understand.” She laughed. “I did something similar. But, if it ever feels crowded, after the magic is back, I can help.” 

He smiled as the music came to an end. “I will keep that in mind.” he looked behind her and stepped back. “Now it seems you have another who wishes the honor of a dance.”

She turned to see Ash grinning at her, just as tall as her already. He bowed slightly. “ **May I have the next dance** ?” 

She smiled and dropped into a curtsy. “I would love that.” 

His eyes crinkled adorably as he smiled wider and took her hand. He was nowhere near as skilled a dancer as Solas and Elrond, but he was obviously practiced and would be quite the dancer when he outgrew his coltish, adolescent awkwardness. Her heart hurt at missing so many years with him.

“So. Is there a reason you are so adamant I do not adopt the ‘tiny bitey noble’?” She asked teasingly. 

He blushed and pulled one hand away from her waist to sign at her. “ **Hush** . **She’s** … **fierce** .”

“Ah,” she grinned. “And we aren’t that southern?”

He laughed without sound and nodded, still blushing darkly. 

“Not till you’re of age.” She smiled and pulled him into a hug… god, he had a girlfriend… she felt tears threaten but blinked them away.

He looked affronted and gave her an ‘I know that’ expression, then grinned. “ **We already have a kid** , **mamae** . **Sorry** .”

She laughed and stepped away as the music ended. “Ah. I stand corrected. Not until you are of age, then.” 

He rolled his eyes and grinned, then turned and headed off through the crowd in a direction that looked suspiciously like directly towards a certain ‘tiny bitey noble’ girl trying to teach Rain to dance. 

She heard his fea before his shadow came to rest on the floor beside her. “What is it about the men in this family going for tiny, aggressive women, Babala?” 

“I believe it is a family trait, as is falling from high places, accidental marriages, and falling out of time.” Del said with amusement. 

“Damon tell you how he and Cass got together, then?” She smiled as he gently swept her into the next dance, she was feeling impish so she stepped onto his feet. 

He gave her a dry look, but kept dancing with her on his toes. “Yes. He’s quite the story teller. He was punched no less than three times during the telling of it.” When she laughed, he grinned. “He also told me of you and Solas’ accidental half-bonding.”

“First of all that was not my fault… and secondly, we were practically already half married on his side of things.” She lifted her nose in mock offense and Babala laughed before stepping back and bowing.

“Of course.” He paused. “A terrifying redhead is angling for a dance with you.”

She winced, “Thanks for the ‘heads up’.”

Babala fled into the crowd, leaving her at Leliana’s mercy. “Lady Emma.” 

She placed a pleasant smile on her face as she turned and curtsied deeply, elegantly. “Divine Victoria.”

Leliana held out a hand to begin the dance with a slight, fixed smile. “That is deeply unsettling to see from you.”

“A curtsy, your grace?” She asked, putting some bewilderment into her voice.

Leliana’s smile was small… Sad. “A mask.”

“Things change. Eventually, so do I.” She said simply. “I have had to walk among would be gods without their knowledge. A god, a Bargainer, a meddlesome problem, a last chance, something to pursue. I’ve had to wear many faces.” She didn’t want to wear a mask with Leli but… She was the Divine now.

Lelianna was quiet for a moment as they danced. “How long… were you gone?” 

“I lost count about ten thousand years in.” Emma gave her a smile to offset the words. “There’s a rather lovely painting in your castle of me.” 

“What?”

“A bargain, me to model in return for-” Emma winced. “Nevermind. It’s the one in the south parlor.”

“The Piagh?” Leliana suddenly laughed, bright and airy, but her eyes were a little tight in shock. “I thought it familiar.” 

Emma hummed. “I’m glad you abolished the circles.”

“I said I would.”

Emma smiled and curtseyed at the end of the dance. “You did. You’re a very good woman.”

Lelianna returned the smile but her eyes were still unsettled and she inclined her head. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Emma.”

“It was an honor, your grace.” Emma backed away, showing respect of station, before turning and capturing the next person’s arm. Which… happened to be... 

“Your majesty.” She smiled at Alistair and pulled him into the dance, laughing when he awkwardly stumbled as she began to lead. “Easy there, you need more practice. Josie must be near tearing out her hair at every ball.”

“I… normally lead.” He was frowning in concentration. “She didn’t think it necessary to teach me to follow.” 

Emma giggled. “Fair enough, on three switch?”

“Wait, no, I’m just getting the hang of it.” He complained playfully. “You can’t just…” He swallowed and his tone dropped to something serious. “Change things again and again…” 

Emma felt her own smile falter, of course he was unsettled, off balance... Upset at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t really… have much choice in the matter. Even when I try to keep things the same, something changes. It’s… nothing is constant.”

Alistair sighed and looked down at their feet as they danced. “No… I know.. I just… well, I have no business complaining… I mean look at me. Eight years ago I was a drunk trying to die. Now I’m married to an amazing woman, have a son, as much cheese as I want, I have a mabari now, you know.”

“And you’re a king.”

“Yes, well, I’m still trying to forgive you for that.” He mock glared at her.

“If it makes you feel better, I was a queen for a while. Might still be, if the Greenwoods still exists, though they probably chose a new monarch by now.” She grinned at his flabbergasted expression. “I may have dropped a thread.”

“How come when you say threads, I don’t think of needles and sewing? Instead I get spiders and webs.” He whined playfully.

“I prefer raven, actually.” She lifted her hand from his just a bit and spun out a thread of magic. “Spiders have too many legs for me to understand.” 

The music started coming to an end and she gradually slowed them down so Alistair had reaction time when the music ended. She curtsied, once again showing respect of his station but she did not look down or away. “Thank you for the dance, your majesty.”

Alistair smiled and bowed. “Perhaps next time I will spare your toes.“ he turned and headed towards where Josie was sitting with Duncan and the twins playing together.

“Care if I cut in, Princess?” 

Emma turned and grinned at Varric who was offering her a hand. “Of course not. I might be able to dance with everyone before the sun rises if I’m quick.” 

Varric chuckled and led her into a simple dance. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s just waiting for their turn… you haven’t sat down once and it’s probably the only way any of us will get to talk to you privately.”

Emma hummed unrepentantly. “If I sit down, I will collect eavesdroppers. If I dance, I can let you know that nothing you will write will come close to the truth.” 

“Oh, I know. That’s why it sells, if it were believable no one would bother.” Varric chuckled quietly. The danced a bit before he cleared his throat. “Listen Princess, The main reason I wanted to talk to you was to… well I just wanted to say I’m sorry… for the shit you’ve been through… but also for not staying and keeping an eye on Chuckles and Blot.”

He was blaming himself for things again. Taking responsibility that wasn’t his to take. “Varric-“

He cut her off. “No, I should have talked to them, been more vocal about what they were doing, but… well… I walked away.” 

“You didn’t just walk away Varric.” Emma squeezed his shoulder. “You became a viscount. You had Kirkwall to take care of.”

“Still, I should have-“

“No.” Emma spoke firmly. “You are not everyone's babysitter, Varric. They are both grown men, they are responsible for their own actions.” She gave him a smile. “And Damon has been haunted by a child who keeps yelling at him and kicking him in the shins, apparently.” 

Varric chulked at that. “Bull told me… they picked a good nickname to… Pebble.”

They danced until the music started to wane and Emma smiled. “Have you met Gimli yet?” 

Varric made a noise in his throat. “The 'Dwarf' that's not a dwarf?”

"He's a very old dwarf." She said seriously. "Very old. You might even be able to beat him in arm wrestling, he's so old." 

Varric narrowed his eyes at her before shaking his head with a laugh. "You're trying to set me up to make a spectacle of myself."

"Would I do that?" She said too innocently and accepted the next hand offered to her.

Dorian cocked an eyebrow at her. “My turn now, is it?”

“Magister Pavus,” Emma grinned as they moved in a faster paced dance than had previously been playing… her money was on either Bull or Damon setting that up. Dorian preferred flashy dances.

"Lady Emma."

"It's actually Queen Miwen. Perhaps Lael'sa since we're in Fenvhenan. Or-"

"Emma, please. You’re making me feel inadequate.” He rolled his eyes before twirling her fast enough to make her skirts flare out dramatically. She let a bit of her magic sparkle along the fabric to catch eyes. Dorian did love showing off his dancing skills. He hummed appreciatively as he pulled her back. “You’ve improved spectacularly.”

"Ever try to dance with a seven foot tall elf? You get very good at looking pretty while being accidentally tossed." She giggled as he spun her again. 

“At least elves, or fae, tend to be graceful when they toss you.” He grumbled goodnaturedly.

"Dancing lessons not go too well with Bull?" She asked in mock sympathy.

“Oh no, they go too well and that is entirely the problem. Nothing gets learned.”

Emma grinned and sighed wistfully, remembering her own dancing lessons with Solas. "In my opinion that's when the best things get learned."

Dorian huffed but a smile tugged at his lips. “Now don’t go getting all romantic on me… that look will get another rumor started.”

"Worse than the glowing, giant, Golden elf I've been introducing as my grandfather?" 

“Point.” Dorian dipped her back just as the music started to end and she cast a trail of sparkles along the line of his robe.

"Scandalous is one of my names." 

He gave her a look like he wasn't sure if she was serious or not as she righted herself.

“May I cut in, darling?” Vivienne's cultured voice spoke and she didn’t even wait for Dorian's response before stepping into his place.

“Of course, dear.” Emma allowed her to lead, and Vivienne gave her a searching look. “How has your college coming?”

“Not well, to be frank. I find most of my potential students run away to join the wolves.”

“Have you considered a liaison? Instead of running an outdated college, you could lead a magnificent team, one that educates the masses of how to treat a manifesting mage, how to go about transferring to Fenvhenan. Make yourself a useful, neutral party between all of the nations.” Emma shrugged. “Then you’re not losing mages to Fenvhenan, you’re the first person to turn to when they  _ need _ help.”

Vivienne hummed as if thinking it over but Emma could tell her mind was on other things. 

“How is Bastien?”

Her eyes softened at the mention of her lover. “Surviving. His health is tenuous, but he lives thanks to you and Damon.” 

Emma gave her an apologetic smile. “I only wish I could have done more.”

“You have done more than anyone else, My dear.” She spoke with genuine affection and gratitude in her voice. “It is good to see you back, Dear. None of us were sure if your paramour would last long without you.”

Emma gave her a flat smile. “My husband, Vivienne. We are married in more ways than just of this age. Do keep up with the times, darling.”

Vivenne didn’t seem off put but smiled apologetically. “Of course. I am too used to speaking with others.”

“The words that influential people use can have a profound effect on how others are treated. Or mistreated. He’s my husband, no matter who you are speaking to.” Emma raised her eyebrow challengingly.

Vivenne actually looked impressed rather than insulted. “My dear, you have grown. I must say I would love to see you released on society.” 

Emma giggled. “Oh, I tried that. May have caused an early collapse of the monarchy. I try not to do it too often.” 

Vivenne gave a cultured laugh as the music slowed to an end. “You are delightful as ever, dear, lets share tea sometime… I have a feeling there’s much for us to catch up on.”

She curtseyed, turned, grabbed the next hand as the music restarted, and grinned when she saw it was Loghain, who was scowling over her shoulder at Vivienne. “Come to save me from the big bad Orlesians, babae?” 

Loghain grumbled and she let him pull her into a traditional Ferelden waltz. “Far too many of them to be comfortable.”

“One of your granddaughters is Orlesian.” She grinned.

“No, she isn’t. She is a wolf.” He scowled, a playful tint to it. 

“Fair enough.” She laughed and let her cheek fall to his chest content to just let herself get lost in the familiar movements of the dance but a stray thought flitted through her mind. “How is Kieran?”

Loghian chuckled quietly. “He is nearly as tall as me. Can wield a sword nearly as well and his magic.” He hummed. “He’s a good boy... Morrigan has been a good mother to him."

"She loves him fiercely." Emma agreed with a smile.

They danced a little longer together before he huffed. “I feel old.”

She gave him a sad smile. "Do you want me to stop healing you, or step it up? Long lives are… difficult." 

He was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “I would not be opposed to more time to see the kind of man Kieran will be…”

She sent a gentle curl of healing magic through him in acquiescence, then hugged him as the music ended. "Few more years and you might get a great grandchild." 

He smiled and bent to kiss her temple. “We’ll see.” He stepped back and bowed slightly before guiding her hand to the person behind her.

"Naneth." Legolas smiled and bowed. He looked handsome, if uncomfortable in his formal clothes. It looked like one or both of the twins had snuck snuck flowers from the white tree into his hair.

"My Leaf.” She smiled and let him lead, he danced gracefully, looking every inch the elven prince. “You look quite handsome tonight.” 

Legolas laughed quietly but glanced over her shoulder and rolled his eyes. "The elf uncle calls ‘Honey’ has been following me." He complained.

Emma hummed and nudged him slightly so that he turned her.  Zevran was leaning against the far wall pointedly not watching them… which meant he was doing just that, using the reflection of his glass as a mirror. 

"Knowing him, he's either trying to get information for his nightingale, or he just thinks you're pretty." she laughed quietly at Legolas' grimace. "I unsettled Leliana, so it's probably my fault. He cares about her, but it's a secret." 

Legolas quirked an eyebrow at her. “Secret?” He laughed. “Poorly kept secret, seeing as I saw him and the Lady Divine in an alcove earlier.”

"It's more a secret we don't talk about, rather than one we don't know about. Also, I may have blurted it out to several people when I was younger." 

Legolas made a face at that, then sighed. “My mind is still having trouble comprehending how you knew each of these people before I was born yet they are all… much much younger than me. My Uncle is… not yet a half century."

"Barely past an elfling?" She laughed.

He made a sound that sounded close to a whine. “Do not get me started on elflings… the twins are determined that I am their little brother… And they are not even seven.”

"Damon still calls me his little sister." She said in mock sympathy. “It is a burden you must bear it seems. At least you are no longer the shortest elf about at any time." 

Legolas rolled his eyes again and his posture shifted ever so slightly, protective, wary. “My height I blame on you. But that aside, the elf called ‘Honey’ is making his way over.”

"Oh good, I was hoping to catch him for a dance. He's who taught me to use my daggers." She squeezed his hand reassuringly and he relaxed slightly. "Isn't that right, Zev?"

"Ah. La Mia Stella. I simply taught you to dance. The daggers were simply accessories." The crow spoke charmingly from behind her.

Emma tugged Legolas down to kiss his cheek before turning and offering her hand to Zev. "Shall we see how our dancing has fared?" She shrugged her left shoulder where her wooden arm had remained unformed and curled the entire evening. "I'm afraid I won't be able to 'accessorize' however." 

Zevran gave her a mischievous smile and began pulling her into the dance. “Ah, a pity.” He yanked on her hand with a raised eyebrow, and then smiled when she didn’t even stumble, instead going with the pull and hooking her foot around his ankle as she twirled by him. 

He avoided the trip, barely. “Which dance is this, Zev?” She asked sweetly, enjoying his surprise. “It feels distinctly Orlesian.” She added with a subtle yank of her own on his hand.

“It has been quite some time since I’ve danced with you, la mia stella. We might both have different steps.” He moved with the pull, and hooked his arm around her waist to try and shove her over. His grin was playful and challenging. 

She dropped, and he caught her reflexively, smoothing the grab at the last second to make it look like an intentioned dip. “Hmm. You dance the same as ever, skilled and loyal.” She smiled innocently as she rolled from his arms and stood, extending her fingers again to resume the dance. 

Zevran smiled and shook his head as they resumed the steps. “Well played, Stella. You have learned new dances.”

“Same dancer, different ballrooms, different dances, but the same dancer.” Emma gave him a fond smile. “I’m still me, just… older. You’re just as pretty as ever, but I don’t fluster like I used to.”

He looked sad for a moment before covering it with a rakish grin. “Well, I’m glad the failing is yours and not my encroaching age.”

“Always, pretty crow. Go dance with your Nightengale, you’re in the wolf’s den, you can do as you please.” She shoved him playfully with the remnants of her left arm. “And tell her we should meet for tea. I’ll fly in.” 

Zevran stepped back and captured her hand bringing it up for a playful kiss and he winked at her. “Is your wolf still as jealous as ever?” 

“Worse.” She laughed and pulled her hand from him. “Come see me if you want me to fix those aches in your knuckles.” 

Zevran’s eyes flicked over to where Loghain was stiffly dancing with Danielle. “Ah. I will… think about it.” 

Emma smiled after the crow as he made his way back to Leliana’s side. 

“May I have the pleasure of this dance?” Emma turned at the familiar Orlesian accent.

Gaspard captured her hand and she sighed and threw up a spell to divert people’s notice. He didn’t seem to notice the fact, and spoke just loud enough to be overheard, if she hadn’t effectively bubbled them. 

“I have met the Herald of Andraste before. Odd girl.”

She allowed him to dance with her and gave him a pleasant smile. “If you make any move against me or my family again, I will kill you and then tear Orlais apart until it is just a footnote in a history book.” 

He looked triumphant. “Was that a threat?”

“Yes. A promise. And don’t get all excited, no one can hear us. You could tear your mask off and start screaming and no one would even look at you.” She shrugged. “I could kill you right here, and people would just wonder why you had left the party early as they danced over your body.”

He had gone a little pale, and was looking around, his grip on her hand tight enough to grind the bones together. “You… You have no way of-”

“I am very small. Very small and tiny and I have only one arm. I look weak, especially dancing with a chevalier. I could drop the spell, let people see me pull my remaining hand, bruised by the way, from your hand. I can give a wobbly curtsy, tear up, then people would see me have to hold back my brother and husband as they cast dark glares at you while fussing over my hand. The faithful would see me as a brave, righteous figure. Your loyal would say I had it coming. My friends include the Divine and the King of Fereldon, as well as many, many other powerful people. I would feed the unrest until your Orlesian nobles were at each other’s throats, stir up a civil war. And then I would kill you. And then I would kill everyone who tried to claim the throne until Orlais was penniless and desperate and  _ grateful _ when the wolves came to bring peace.”

She smiled at him, adding a touch of illusion so that for a moment, her face was that of a snarling wolf, only to melt into a pleasant, polite smile as his eyes widened in fear. ”So, be a good little puppet king, and do everything Briala and Amelan tell you to, or you will become nothing more than a note in a Fenvhenan history book that Gaspard was the last emperor of the territory formerly known as Orlais.” 

“You…” He swallowed. “You don’t have the spine to murder and incite war.”

Emma laughed, loud and open. “Oh, I think you are confusing me with my brother again. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t control him.”

“You’re just a girl, playing with a mask that is too large to fit.” He hissed his hand tightening on her waist. But he was afraid, His eyes gave him away. Windows to the soul.

She curled her lips into a snarl. “You are just a shadow of a child to me, Gaspard. You play with your masks and shiny swords. I was there when your little game was first conceived, have seen it played better and longer by beings you cannot even comprehend. I have watched Andraste  _ burn _ , quickling shadow. So behave, so I don’t have to break my brother’s toys.” She pulled her hand from his, tsking when the movement dislocated her thumb, then patted his cheek. “He spent a lot of effort to turn you into a puppet. I would feel bad if I had to tear it apart.” She relocated her thumb with an audible ‘pop’ and his face somehow paled further. She gave him one last toothy smile, before letting her eyes water and clutching her bruised and swollen hand to her chest, dropping the spell hiding them.

“Your majesty.” She said shakily, stepping back quickly, as if scared. A noble dancing next to them startled, their eyes darting from Gaspard, to Emma’s hand. Gaspard swallowed. 


	11. Chapter 11

His first reaction, feeling her aura flare in pain, seeing her step away from Gaspard with wet eyes and her bruised hand clutched to her chest… his first reaction had been rage. But… his second, more thought out reaction, was: oh. 

She sent him a nudge through their link and he followed, stalking towards them on the barest polite side of angry. She was… planning something. Had that satisfied tilt to her head that he only knew because he grew up with her. She was planning something, but Gaspard had still hurt her, even if it was her plan. 

She… was setting something up and it was a heavy, painful feeling to be reminded how… old she was. Old and fighting to keep her love alive through any means necessary. He stopped when she placed her bruised hand on his chest… in plan view of most assembled, looking up at him with watery eyes, but their link hummed in gratitude for playing along. 

“I’m alright.” She said shakily. 

He glared at Gaspard, who looked absolutely terrified, and let Emma push him back. ( _ What is this? _ )

( _ Insurance. So he doesn’t go after the kids again _ .) “Dance with me?”

Even though… even though he  _ knew _ she… she was Emma, it was still… relieving to hear her say whatever she was planning was to protect the kids. “Of course.” He held his hand out, palm up, so she could rest her injured hand on it without moving it too much. Coincidentally, in plain sight as well. 

He felt a  _ can’theardon’tnotice _ wash of her magic settle over them after a few steps. And she sighed. “Sorry, about that, but in my defense he started it.” Her tone was playful but her eyes were… tired, and her aura took on a tint of acidic  _ horriblewhydoIdothatmonster _ .

“Hey, it’s okay.” She was punishing herself for playing the Game to protect the kids. He… he knew how that felt. He trusted her notice me not spell and grabbed her into a hug. “It’s okay.” 

She abruptly went limp, hugging him tightly with a shaky breath. “I hate masks, hiding, manipulation, lying without lying, feeding monsters behind them…” She trembled and he knew it was real, could feel her uncertainty about how he would feel about her, could sense her  _ Pleasedon’thatemeI’msorryI’msorry. _

“I hate it too, Em. I understand. I might be… a lot younger than you, but I get it.” He sighed and sent her a reassuring nudge through their link, then called Solas through theirs. “We… we protect our own. I love you.” 

She held onto him tighter and she started crying, but they were tears of relief, 

He glanced around at the murmuring nobles and the fretful face of Alistair, and murmured. “Hey, maybe drop the notice me not for a second? Sols is looking for you and…”

“Looks… good.” She shuddered and dropped the spell, still sobbing quietly into his stomach. “Th-thank you.”

“I got you, Emma.” He said quietly, giving a dark glance in Gaspard’s direction. Alistair caught the expression and glanced from Emma’s crying form and to the Emperor, his face darkening. “I got you, Emma.” 

Solas was almost instantly at their side, his eyes dark with anger. “Isa’ma’lin, if he is not gone with the sun tomorrow he will not wake.”

Damon lifted Emma’s injured hand and carefully set it in Solas’, in plain view of everyone. Emma gave him a mental, ( _ don’t touch him, just make a show _ ) as Solas healed the bruises, and Damon stalked towards Gaspard. 

“I think the ball is ending.” He said lowly, keeping the words tight between his teeth.

“She is playing you.” Gaspard said weakly, but backed up a step, his eyes darting around at the watching nobles. Honestly, his obvious reactions were probably doing more damage to his position in the Game than having hurt Emma.

Damon gave him a cold, gold tinted smile. “She is my  _ sister _ you are speaking of, Emperor. Her hand hurts and I think we are done dancing. Don’t you agree?” 

Gaspard swallowed and nodded. “Of course.” 

  
  


The last thing he expected when he got the letter from Amelan was… well, for one thing to see Blot back in control, and then his ancient relatives who were most definitely not real elves, and  _ that _ was  _ not _ a dwarf. Then there was the glowing tree thing, which was weird, but still, despite all of that, he still… hadn’t expected Emma to just… appear. Princess was back. But she was scarred… Varric had seen a lot of shit in his life… and Princess had that… heaviness to her now...

She wasn’t bubbly and… innocent anymore. She still smiled like the sun, but she also had a sharp edge to her now, a slight wariness when someone first spoke, like she was expecting a knife to follow. 

Wherever she had gone when she disappeared, some shit had happened to her. 

And she was back. Shorter, missing an arm, and with dark hair. But… she was back. She seemed to honestly enjoy the ball Blot had used to lure everyone in, not stopping her dancing until after whatever that slimeball emperor had done had sent her into tears in the middle of the dancefloor.

The rest of the ball had lost its levity and Blot wound the party down fairly quickly. There was absolutely no doubt that everyone there was feeling a little miffed at Gaspard. Okay, that was a massive understatement, it felt like the noble’s were going to start throwing punches things were so tense, and everyone hated Gaspard. Varric was a little shocked the guy made it out of Skyhold alive with the dark looks Blot and Chuckles were giving him. 

But Princess still had watery eyes and her gold eyeliner had run and he… didn’t want the night to end like that for her. She had looked so happy dancing with everyone. So he approached her with a grin as he pulled his well worn deck from his jacket, and elbowed her. “How about some Wicked Grace, Princess? It’s been a while.” 

Her face brightened. “Yeah! Let’s get the gang together for a game. I’ll drag the Ferelden Chantry Boys into it.” 

Apparently Blot had set up a ‘game room’ for the kids years back, and since the kids were in bed, he had tables shoved together to fit everyone. Not everyone was playing, but everyone was there, new faces as well. Leliana aka Divine Victoria And the Iron Lady sat at a side table with Ruffles sipping wine and chatting as they watched the game.

Curly and his wife, Princess’ ‘grandparents’, Ruffles and Sugar. It was a lively crowd, and the Not-Dwarf and Tiny seemed to be fast friends, and seemed to be already pretty deep into their cups, much to Sparkler and the ‘elf’ that claimed to be Princess’ and Chuckles son’s fond exasperation. 

Chuckles was sitting across from him with Princess perched in his lap and, frankly, Varric couldn’t see it… sheer height aside, Legolas looked nothing like Chuckles… and you could only see similarities with Princess if you squinted.

Then there was Goldie and Queen, the two that were Blot and Princess’ ‘grandparents’, no resemblance there either. 

But… then again. Ant didn’t look anything like his mother either. So what did he know? He was just going to cut the cards and maybe stack the deck so he could bet Blot into a round of Truth and Dare. 

Except the second he slid a card into place, Queen leaned forward with a sharp look and a dangerously sweet tone as she said something in her weird language. Blot, Goldie, Legolas, Not-Dwarf, and Princess all made a choking laughing sound.

“Varric, my favorite dwarf, if you value your dwarf hood, stop stacking the deck.” Princess giggled. “Mamaela can, and will catch you.” 

The Not-Dwarf, made an affronted sound. “And what am I, Lass?” 

“Not a dwarf.” Varric said dryly, and shuffled properly. 

“Not a dwarf? Not a dwarf?! Why you shrunken-” Not-Dwarf went to stand but Legolas pulled him back down is his seat with a smothered chuckle.

“You are just as much not a dwarf as I am apparently not an elf.” The blonde said with way too much amusement, then frowned at the cards Varric dealt him. “Is that Wicked Basket game you spoke of, Naneth?” 

Princess hummed and picked up her and Chuckle’s cards, apparently they were ‘teaming up’. “Wicked Grace, dear. I showed you yesterday.” 

“Grace… right, my mistake…” he frowned and turned his cards around a few times… like he was looking for the top and bottom. “What am I trying to do again? These make no sense.”

Oh. This was going to be fun. Goldie and Queen were also apparently teaming up, though Goldie looked as uncertain about the cards as Legolas did, but Not-Dwarf was sitting out to watch as apparently he had lost his coin in a bet against Princess. 

It was a good three rounds later and half of his betting money that Varric realized that Legolas was a very, very good con man. “You son of a bitch!”

“Hey!” Chuckles, Princess, and Legolas all said at the same time. 

Blot nearly fell out of his chair from laughing so hard. “Oh gods, this almost makes up for missing the drinking game.” Legolas smirked and Not-Dwarf grumbled something about ‘sneaky elf  princeling’ . “I gotta ask… how much does it take for you to get drunk?”

Goldie and Legolas- Princeling? Yeah, princling fit. Goldie and Princeling both looked at him with matching slightly disappointed expressions. “Elves do not indulge overly much.” 

Princess and Blot both snorted at the same time. And Princess shrugged. “I’ve never really seen them drink, so I can’t say how it affects them.”

Queen said something in a playful tone, and Goldie’s entire face flushed red and Blot made a strangled noise and covered his face with his hands. “Mamaela! Did not need to know that!” 

Bull took this as a cue and slapped the table. “Now I’m curious,” he pointed at Goldie and Princeling. “You two, drinking contest.”

Goldie started to shake his head, but Queen poked him in the ribs and said something sly, and he flushed and sighed. “Fine, but, only if you join us.” 

Queen wiggled in Goldie’s lap and patted the table in demand. “Ohlahn!”

Blot’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure, mamaela? They’re a bit bigger than you?”

“What did she say?” Zevran asked in interest. 

“She said to give her a drink. She’s going to join in.” Gimli said.

Almost simultaneously, every head turned to look at the tiny woman perched on the giant golden being’s lap. The tiny woman in question simply arched an eyebrow and hit the table again. Blot smirked and slid his drink to her, and she immediately shot it back without hesitation, slamming the cup down on the table in challenge. 

Varric pulled out his bet book. “My money is on Queen there.”

Princess startled, then laughed. “Oh, I thought you meant me for a second.” 

“You have not been a queen in a very long time, ma’lath.” Chuckles said dryly. “My money is on Legolas.” 

Sparkler looked at Princess who shook her head and raised her hands with a grin. “I’m not betting, so don’t look at me.”

This had all the flavor of a set up, but Varric rolled with it and then… several rounds later, found himself staring at Queen, who was draining drink after drink and still was clear eyed and patting the table in demand. Goldie was flushed and grinning and kept kissing Queen’s neck, and hugging her like a oversized stuffed bear, which was hilarious, and Princeling was completely straight faced but had a bit of a slosh to his drinking. Tiny was sitting up through sheer force of will at this point. 

“Makers breath, How is she still staying upright?” Hawke asked incredulously.

“Us fae-wed women are made of steel.” Princess said smugly. 

“Have to be so we don’t get broken in half.” Queen said her first common words since they met and the Divine herself let out a snigger, and the good Seeker did as well, though she blushed and covered her mouth with her hand. 

“I’m. Not. A. Fae.” Goldie said from the side of Queen’s throat in exacting syllables. 

“Pretty sure we proved otherwise, Babala.” Princeling said without a trace of drink in his voice. Guy was good. 

Queen looked completely smug as she drained another mug, then set it down with a challenge. Tiny threw his hands up. “I’m outs. No, uh, no good to- to try.” 

“Wheresh she puttin’ it!?” Sera cried out in a baffled voice. 

Loghain suddenly held up a hand and pointed sharply at Blot. “Do not! Say it aloud.” 

“Ewwwww! Nevermin’ I don’ wanna know.” Sera scrunch her face and tipped back the rest of her drink.

“I do!” Hawke cried. “You know how much money I’d make if I could drink like that?”

Curly laughed wryly over the top of Neria’s head. She had ended up on his lap as well after her second drink. “As much as we just lost?” 

Gimli let out a gruff laugh.

Three more rounds and Princeling had fallen asleep with his head on the table, partly curled around his tankard, and Goldie looked not too far behind him as his eyes were closed and his forehead was pressed to his wife shoulder. Queen reached for another drink and quaffed it and- damn. That was impressive. 

Sparkler suddenly sat bolt upright and pointed accusingly at Princess. “You! YOU cheat! I felt that this time!”

Princess raised her hands but grinned unrepentantly.

“Wot’? Wot shhe do?” Sera slurred from where she was slumped in her seat.

Sparkler crossed his arms and looked smug. “Our dear little abstainer has been casting a cleansing of Beth here.”

Goldie suddenly burst into chuckles bordering near giggles. “Ai, you should have seen Ga-galaer-Galadri?”

“Galadriel, mir nin _.” _ Queen corrected the sloshed giant elf.

“That one- their face the first time she did it.” 

“You knew she was-” Sugar looked at Goldie in shock.

“Course!” Goldie did that almost giggle again and pressed his face into the crook of Queen’s shoulder, who laughed and said something that sounded like ‘not now’ in any language it was spoken in.

Princess waved her hand at Princeling, who blinked awake, then winced and sat up, then winced again, sounding a little hoarse. “You could not cleanse all of it?”

“Do it yourself, sweetling.” 

Princeling winced, scowled, then looked at Chuckles pleadingly. “Ada?”

“S’not fair- sn’tong it’s not fair.” Tiny said slowly. “You. not.. Uh…” He blinked and frowned.

Gimli laughed loudly, slapping Tiny’s shoulder. “Ai Lad, if you don’t cheat a little you aren’t truly trying.”

“Thank you.” Sparkler sniffed.

Curly shook his head and huffed a laugh, Neira mumbling in annoyance when he jostled her from her sleep. “I don’t think that applies to chess, Dorian.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, cleanse them before they die of alcohol poisoning.” Blot laughed. He had been watching all of this with a delighted, near manic grin.

“Hmm. Pretty sure that’s against family rules.” Princess said, examining their nails casually.

“Nah, family rules are ‘Don’t give your full name to a stranger, don’t trade knives with someone who don’t know what it means, and always tie your hair back before a fight or a fuck.’ Ain’t nothing in there about dealing with your own hangovers.” Blot said thoughtfully. 

“Tha’s not how that last one goes.” Princeling said, looking sloshed and affronted.

“Yeah it is!” Blot said, he looked at Queen. “Always tie your hair back before a fight or a fuck, right?”

Queen nodded, and Goldie let out a bone weary sigh from somewhere within her hair. “Always will she haunt me. Ten- tens- tensomething thoushand years and still she haunts me.” 

Princeling blinked… and blinked again then looked at Princess. “Naneth… I don’t know that one.” 

Blot gasped in horror. “You didn’t teach him the family rules?”

Princess narrowed her eyes at him. “At least  _ one  _ of my children didn’t swear before they were grown.” 

Okay. He could see the family resemblance now. 


	12. Chapter 12

It was time for her first Moon Run. She had the gist of what it was, running under the moon, a family favorite of Damon and Aunt Gemma, but the kids were surprisingly close lipped about it, and with the delighted giggles they had when they refused to answer her… she let them have their surprise. 

They went down to the valley to the Almond tree she had made and everyone was there. Her ancestors and descendents, her brother and found family, everyone. Looking over all of them chatting quietly and peacefully under the branches of her tree… it was  surreal… all of them… separated through the ages… together.

And then Damon shifted into his wolf, black and massive as him, Solas to his white wolf, and then Danielle to a red wolf that still looked partly pup. 

“Oh! I’m so proud of you!” Emma told her. She was, her studious Danielle had chosen to be a wolf. 

Danielle chuffed and bumped her with her head, and then Emma shifted into her own wolf form. She was silver again, after so long damaged and torn and mottled, she was silver again. The twins squealed and climbed onto her back and she glanced back at them in amusement, then looked to see Solas with his ears back, his aura… lost for a moment, before he gave a mental shrug and let Gealathe, Leggy, and Ant onto his back. Rain clambered onto Danielle, Rochelle made an excited squeaking noise when Damon offered her his back, and then with a howl that sang of  _ familyhomefunlove _ , they were off in a romp beneath the moon. 

It was fun, memories of chasing Legolas surfacing as they raced and wrestled and chased each other under their moon. Isalen and Emmaera both shrieking in joy on her back was… she had no words for the feeling in her chest, only... full. She felt full… of love and of joy. She was home.

After the children were exhausted and had fallen asleep under the almond tree on the picnic blankets, Cass moved to sit next to her, her brow furrowed pensively. 

“What are you thinking of?” Emma asked softly. Cass had been watching Loghain closely with the same expression for days now, and she could guess what her brother’s wife was going to ask.

“I… do not like blood magic. It… goes against my faith and-” Cass blew out a sharp breath and started again. “I would ask…”

“Cass. You’re my brother’s wife and my sister.” Emma smiled softly, she understood, of course she understood. People's faith was important. “You’re family.” 

Cass gave her a small smile. “I cannot… bring myself to agree to the blood magic. But… if you are willing, perhaps as you do for your… father?”

“More time?” Emma smiled and reached out to lay a hand on Cass’ arm, sending a curl of healing magic. “Of course. Sometime when you have a day to just sleep and drink tea, I can set you back about ten years all at once, but it will hurt.” 

Cass looked over at Damon, who was drawing something for Legolas and Gimli, and then set her mouth into a determined line. “Not as much as leaving him would hurt him.”

“It has to be your choice, Cass. Long lives are… difficult.” Emma warned and looked down at her hands. “But you’ll have him… having someone it… it’s important... without-“ she cut herself off and shook her head, she was here… this wasn’t about her. She looked up and smiled at Cass. “I’m glad you will be there for him.”

“I do not know how a longer life will affect me.” Cass gave her a one shouldered shrug she must have learned from Damon. “But I do not think I would ever be… willing to leave him.”

“You are a very strong, loyal woman.” Emma said softly and took Cass’ hand and pressed it. “He is lucky to have you.”

Cass looked over at Damon, a soft smile gracing her features as Ant rolled over from he had been laying with the twins and rested his head on Damon’s leg, and Damon smiled and rubbed the nubs of her nephew’s horns before resuming his drawing. “I believe we are both lucky… he is a good man.”

  
  


Glorfindel had honestly enjoyed the card game, getting to know Emma and Damon’s friends and chosen family, it was… relaxing as well entertaining. Beth had had the time of her life and it had been… wonderful to see her enjoying herself so freely and openly even surrounded by ‘Fae’. Then the ‘moon run’ with Emma… to see her whole, with the family she had once believed lost to her, after so long. It was heartening.

It made him feel… optimistic. Even as Emma’s friends returned to their homes, each bearing a seedling of the white tree to plant near their home. Even as he watched Damon, Emma, and Thranduil/Solas’ preparations for war against the Elves that had set themselves up as ‘gods’. He helped strategize where he could… but the war they were fighting was not one to be fought with soldiers… a distinct lack of soldiers. And that alone put him at a disadvantage.

But during the times they were not planning… were not strategizing, they spent with their family... as they were now. 

He watched as Emma drew back her bow, and let two arrows fly at once, each finding their targets at different sides of the field. The children watching on whooped excitedly and raised their own bows to try and hit the targets set up for them. 

Damon threw his hands up. “Why do you even bother with the bow if you’re going to aim with magic?”

Emma grinned over her shoulder at him. “Because it looks cooler.”

Damon paused, as if that was an actual argument, then tilted his head. “Point. But you could also go anime girl and just fling the arrows by hand.” He illustrated by sending a shard of magic flying into a target with a flick of his wrist. “Understated, or amped up with a cloak and some well placed sparkles depending on the situation.” 

Emma snorted and adjusted Leggy’s hold on his bow, and stepped back. “Sparkles are too unrealistic, not nearly as intimidating. Just a bit higher sweetie, the farther away the target the higher you need to aim.”

“You said ‘looks cool’, not intimidating. Intimidating is a completely different aesthetic.” Damon huffed.

“Intimidating is part of looking ‘cool’, is it not, Naneth?” Legolas said and bumped Gaelathe’s elbow up an inch. 

Del glanced between them in amusement. They had their own method of speaking, somehow understanding each other’s riddles and half sentences. 

Emma pointed at her son in emphasis, “Exactly. Cool and intimidating can go hand in hand.” She winked at Isy and gently nudged their foot back as the girl giggled. “Plus using already made objects is less draining on your fea than creating them from nothing.”

“Again, you said nothing about practicality. Moving goal posts, logical fallacy.” Damon huffed and looked at him in playful exasperation. “There is no arguing with her.” 

“I like your bow Mamae.” Emy said after she released her arrow to nick the bottom of her target.

“Good job, just aim a little higher next time and you’ll be dead center.” Emma smiled and gently clapped their back. “And thank you, your Babae had it made for me.” Then she paused and hummed. “Oh. I might need to go out to the Hinterlands and pick up Valor.” 

Damon started humming an odd tune and Emma abruptly snorted in amusement. Damon grinned. “Wibbly wobbly timey wimey… stuff.” 

“Time is not a line.” Emma huffed a laugh.

“I’m assuming you’re the one who left a cactus and a jug of oil on my desk?” Damon grinned and leaned against the fence. 

“Actually, I believe that was Ada.” Legolas said. “And that it was for a joke he was not repeating in front of me. Isy, you are not advanced enough to shoot while on one foot yet.”

Del pointedly did not ask what the joke might be as Damon snickered. “So who’s Valor? And how many surprises do you have stashed around Thedas like that?” 

Emma smiled, “Valor used to be known as Fingon The Valiant.”

Fingon… Findekáno, Turgon’s brother and once high king of the Noldor… Gil’Galad’s father. That he still remained after all this time… after all these ‘evanuris’ had done to them…

Damon straightened in awed shock, his magic flaring brightly. “Fingon?  _ The _ Fingon? What even?”

Emma’s smile faltered. “I snuck as many as I could from Mandos’ Halls before they were…” She glanced at the attentively listening kids and sighed. “Later. I have a few stashed around Thedas. Elrond already found Celebrian and Galadriel follows Thranduil around on the other side of the veil.” 

“So… Wisdom is Galadriel…” Damon blinked then asked, somewhat dazed. “Do you have Gandalf?”

Del had the sudden urge to rub his temples at the dimly mind boggling evidence of what Emma had been doing for the time they had been separated.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Gandalf does what Gandalf wants. I have no idea when, where, or what he is by now.” She paused again, and looked at him thoughtfully before adding. “Damon, if you can find Felassan and bring him in, gently, I have something of his.” 

Damon suddenly sat up. “Shi- crap, who is he?”

“Babae says we’re supposed to avoid him and go for help if we see him.” Isy piped up. The children had set aside their bows and were listening raptly to them speak. 

“Your babae is going to be hilariously embarrassed when he sees him again. Felassan would never harm you.” Emma said in amusement. She looked up at Damon with a grin. “Celeborn.”

Legolas looked up from where he was fiddling with his own bow. “Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien?”

At Emma’s nod, Damon’s eyes widened and he burst into slightly hysterical giggles. “Oh gods… I  _ need _ to be there to see Sol’s face when he finds out the guy he’s been sniping is his co-king.”

“Lord Celeborn refused the title of kingship.” Emma smiled, “and yeah it's going to be pretty funny.” 

Celeborn and Galadriel… Fingon… Celebrian and Elrond… 

“I know, but co-king is more fun to say, like nose candy. Co-lord sounds like a plate of greens.” Damon abruptly shook himself and grinned. “So uh… want me to fly you out to the Hinterlands? I am  _ dying _ to meet Fingon.” 

The children gasped and began bouncing. “Can we go too? You haven’t flown us in  _ forever _ !” 

“Not this time, but maybe next full moon, yeah?” 

“But that’s so far away!” Del couldn’t hide his amusement at the children’s exaggerated disappointment. 

“Ah yes, full month to wait. How terribly long.” Legolas said dryly. “Ai! Get off, little beastling!” 

“Not until you do the thing.” Isy said from his back. She had suddenly clambered on in his distraction and was grinning delightedly over his shoulder. 

Legolas sighed but looked embarrassed. “I do not think now is the time, Isy, now… Ai, get off.”

“Oh, no, now is the perfect time.” Damon said with a grin disturbingly similar to Isy’s sharp smile. “I want to see what the thing you need to do is.” 

“You’ve been practicing.” Gaelathe said quietly.

Legolas looked like he might be thinking of agreeing before he shook his head. “No, Ada is not here.” 

“I’m aware I am shorter than you are used to, but that does not excuse overlooking me completely.” Solas said with amusement from behind the fence. Either Emma or Damon must have called him and judging by the significant look Emma was giving her bonded, it had been her. 

Emy grinned and poked Legolas’ leg. “See! Ad- Babae is here. No excuses.”

“Do the thing! Do the thing!” Leggy demanded excitedly. 

Legolas flushed but nodded and stood as soon as Isy slid from his back and picked up his bow. “You are all feral little beastlings.”

“And proud of it!” Isy crowed.

Legolas glanced around at all of them, looking uncertain before he sighed in defeat, lifted his bow, drew the empty string… and split a target with a bolt of magic. 

Damon let out a low whistle. “Daaaayum. That’s impressive.” 

Legolas flushed and looked over at Emma and Solas uncertainly. “There is still too much… mana behind it, I am afraid and-“

Legolas was cut off by Emma immediately crossing over and pulling him down into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, my leaf! That was amazing!” 

Legolas huffed an embarrassed laugh and hugged his naneth back tightly, then looked over at Solas who hadn’t moved from the fence. His face unreadable… but his fea… his fea shone with awe and pride… but also shame. Legolas’ face fell before he closed off and stood. “I will practice more.” 

Solas suddenly straightened in panic. “Legolas, no!” He immediately leapt over the fence and went to his son. “It was… Your ability... Was amazing. I simply am ashamed I did not teach you long ago when I should have. You show incredible talent and potential.” 

“Grown ups use a lot of complicated words to say ‘good job’.” Emy observed. 

Emma nodded and stepped back from Legolas to slap Solas’ shoulder. “Hug your son and quit being such a complicated grown up.”

Del couldn’t help but grin as Solas looked chastised but pulled his son into an embrace. “I would like to teach you more if you would allow it?”

Legolas smiled and nodded as they parted. “I would like that.” 

“Oh, good. I was running out of books.” Gaelathe said with mock weariness.

Damon laughed and ruffled Gaelathe’s hair, earning an annoyed glare from the boy. “I have some awesome kids.”

  
  
  


“Dragon. You’re a dragon. Damon… is a dragon. Somehow I’m not surprised, but yet… Dragon.” 

Emma stood in the valley with her mouth open in awed surprise, and Solas couldn’t help but chuckle at the notion that this surprised her.

The Black Dragon, which was Damon, opened its mouth in a parody of a grin and stretched out his wings to show off, obviously smug even in the drake form. Damon reached out with a massive claw and very carefully bumped Emma, making a deep, rumbling sound that was almost a laugh. 

Emma laughed and shoved at the claw playfully. “Well, I taught Solas how to shift. So technically you got this from me.”

Damon dropped his head to the ground with a thud loud enough to make the ground tremble and let out an exasperated huff tinged with frost. 

“I believe you are ‘stealing his thunder’.” Solas said dryly as he brushed some of the frost off of his sleeve.

Emma grinned at him. “You know how funny it is to hear you use modern lingo?” 

Solas smiled and walked over to stand behind her before whispering. “Scrunchy.”

Emma started cackling, and Damon… Damon was looking at them in confused amusement. He gave a flick of his wings in mimicry of a shrug, then lowered to the ground so it was easier to clamber onto his back. 

Emma felt distinctly smug as she said. "You know I-"

Damon huffed and coated her in a sheen of petulant frost. And by way of proximity, him as well.

He raised an eyebrow at him as Emma glared and melted the ice. "You're acting like a child."

Damon sat back on his hind legs, rearing his head back and… wiggling it with a mocking "eyeyeye" noise, as Isy did when mocking her siblings. Emma burst into laughter. "Oh that's the best thing I've ever seen! Pouting dragon!"

Solas was… very glad he had  _ happened _ to forget to tell Damon he was capable of speaking in that form. He was expressive enough without speech. They eventually climbed onto Damon’s back, sticking themself to the scales on his back with their magic as he always ended up performing at least one ‘barrel roll’ when in flight. 

He had often carried Emma so when his name had been Thranduil, but now he could see her happy grin and the bright way her eyes roamed over the landscape as they travelled swiftly through the air. They reached the lake Emma had hidden her bow in less than a quarter of the time it would have taken to reach by horseback.

Emma put her hand into the water and sent out a curious, questioning pulse of magic, and Solas felt Valor respond in affirmative. Emma smiled and stretched her aura to pull a helm from the water. Damon reared back in surprise and Emma laughed. “Yeah, it’s the one you found all those years ago. It’s how I anchored him here so he couldn’t be bound.” She hooked the helm onto her belt and climbed back up onto Damon’s back, then sent out a magelight. “Follow the light, I made and hid a body for him before the Veil.” 

  
  
  


His chest burned, aching with a foreign need. He felt a hand press against his chest and a gentle command. "Inhale."

He obeyed and the burning eased. "Exhale. Blink." 

He followed the instructions until it felt… natural, instinctive. It had been… a long time since he had a physical form. He took a moment to reacquaint himself with the simple task of breathing before he forced the movement of sitting up. Leal'sa. The Meddler. Who had kept his fea from the false ones… gave him the lake… her bow to hold and protect. She smiled at him. "There you go. You got the hang of it quickly.”

He blinked… why did nothing seem to make sense? Was it from having a physical vessel once more? Time was no longer abstract. Smells assaulted his nose. Hair poked his neck, an irritation. His mouth felt dry… achingly so. A flask of some sort was held in front of him, and he drank gratefully, shuddering slightly as energy seemed to rush through him suddenly, his limbs felt less sluggish, everything less… foreign. Like stepping into an older suit of armor. 

There was a deep, rumbling noise from behind her and he focused and saw… a dragon, massive and black and looking directly at them just outside the opening of the chamber with its jaws open and its tail lashing wildly, its golden eyes fixed on him.

His hand gripped Leal’sa’s arm tightly in warning. His voice came out hoarse, raw. “Drake.”

Leal'sa looked over her shoulder and made an exasperated noise at the great beast. "I told you to stay back until I had warned him!" The dragon ducked his head, sheepishly almost, and huffed. She rolled her eyes. "I know you're excited to meet him, but two minutes!"

The dragon huffed but moved away from the opening. “A big puppy, honestly.” Leal’sa sounded exasperated, and the elf beside her… Fen’Harel… smaller than expected but elves were smaller now… laughed even as they helped Leal’sa get his vessel to stand. “Right, come on… let’s get you into the sun. I tried to get this body exactly as your former one. Same strengths and weaknesses.”

“The-“ he had to swallow… his tongue feeling strange in his mouth. “Drake is yours? Tame?” He was unsure what word to use.

Fen’Harel snorted. “There is nothing ‘tame’ about him, or even well mannered, but he is not a threat to you.” 

Despite their small sizes Leal’sa and Fen’Harel easily helped steady him until he had reaccustomed himself to having to put effort into moving and staying balanced. And they stayed on either side of him as he was led out of the chamber… as soon as the light of the sun hit his skin he felt more relaxed… more himself. Less aching and distant. The air still felt strange but the light… the light was familiar. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until the sensation of great movement nearby made him open them.

The dragon had inched closer and was practically pressed flat to the ground, though it still loomed over them due to its massive size, its tail still lashing wildly and its eyes fixed on him. 

He looked over at Leal’sa and she seemed unperturbed by the beast, in fact she seemed… amused. He tried to open his fea to the world around him but he felt… constricted… breathing through wet fabric. There was a sympathetic, reassuring brush of…  _ something _ from the dragon. 

Leal’sa guided him backwards to lean against a boulder, “There you go, feel better? More grounded?”

He nodded, the sun, the light helped. Its warmth… It helped. 

The dragon shuffled closer until its snout bumped her back. She… slapped its nose. "Back up, you absolute child. Former High King Fingon, meet Amelan of Fenvhenan."

The drake opened its mouth to reveal its huge teeth and Leal’sa slapped its nose again. "He might even do a trick if you ask him." The black drake snorted frost into her hair which only made her roll her eyes. “Act like a puppy you get treated like a puppy.”

Her… casual treatment of the beast was… strange… he had seen the drakes, dragons of this time reduced to mindless, chaotic beasts… but this one shone with intelligence. Whether that was comforting or not he could not say… drakes he had dealings with had been directly controlled by Morgoth. 

The drake grumbled in its chest, then laid its head on the ground so it was eye level with him. It blinked and made another rumble that sounded… inquisitive. Strange… would it just not speak its question? Or was it not quite that intelligent?

“Can… you speak?” He hazarded the query and was surprised by Fen’Heral’s sudden groan.

It chuffed and Leal’sa made another amused noise in her throat. “Of course you can.” 

It reared up suddenly, sitting back on its hind legs with every line of it looking… surprised. “W- what?” Its voice was deep and… shocked. “I can sssspeak? Wow… That’ssss weird. Hissssing sssssoundsss.” It suddenly narrowed its eyes, bringing its head down to stare at Fen’Harel with a single slitted eye and hissed. “You ssssmug moldy egg! You knew and didn’t tell me!” 

“I was enjoying the peace while I could.” Fen’Harel sounded resigned. 

The dragon pulled back and… breathed a coat of frost onto Fen’Harel with an annoyed snort before turning its golden eye onto him. “I am Damon. I’m really, really honored to sssee you.” 

Lael’sa was suddenly giggling. “Oh God, please please please. Try, ‘Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore.”

The drake let out a long sibilant sound that trailed off into, “Sssssfuck that, you troll.” It sat back on its hind legs and lifted a fore leg, waving its claws limply. “I have a lissssp.” 

The drake… Damon? Was… strange? It had not known it could speak before? 

Fen'Harel made an annoyed noise, “and now we will have to listen to it the whole flight back to Skyhold… just do not sing.”

The dragon abruptly put its head back on the ground with a grumble. “I promisssed Babala I would not sssssing in front of the old onessss.” 

“Small mercies.” Fen'Harel grumbled.

“How… did…” He searched for words in the face of the… playful great dragon. “Meet?”

The dragon pulled its lips back to show its teeth in a parody of a smile. “Leal’sssssa isss my ssssisssster.” His face must have betrayed his utter confusion. “Our father isss a very, very brave man.” The dragon said solemnly. 

What?

Leal’sa snorted. “Damon, hush. I just fixed him, don’t break him.”

She was not disagreeing with it, denying they were… siblings. He shifted uncomfortably as the dragon laid flat on the ground again with a cheerful. “Climb on up, passssengersss. Back to sssskyhold we go. Babala will be ssssso happy to ssssee you.”

Babala… grandfather. “Who…?” his throat failed him and Leal’sa offered him the flask again with a smile. 

“Our grandfather issss Laurefindil.” The dragon said with a delighted full body wiggle. 

Laurefindil?! 


	13. Chapter 13

Rochelle was enjoying a nice, quiet study session in the valley. Rain was off a ways practicing 'magic missiles' while she and Ash worked on their advanced mathematics homework. She had finally caught up to the other children her age and they could study with mutual benefit. Ash suddenly looked up and and moment later a shadow, a very large shadow passed over them, far too quickly for a cloud. 

She looked up and sucked in a perfectly calm and not panicked at all breath. Dragon. She leaped to her feet as the dragon began descending towards the valley floor. "Rain!"

Ash grabbed her arm and he was… smiling. " **It is just papa** ."

"It's a dragon!" A dragon which had just landed far too close with enough force to send tremors through the ground. Rain appeared by her side with a spell waiting in her hands as she stared with awe at the dragon, which was… looking straight at them. 

“Hey kiddossssss!” The dragon said in a lisping, but still familiar voice.

"Merde! You really are a dragon!" Rochelle felt terrified awe… And very, very small as Amelan… who was… a dragon… approached slowly, then laid down carefully. She wasn’t even as big as one of his claws. 

Fen’Harel and Lady Emma leaped off of its- his back, and a stranger followed a bit slower. She stomped her foot in irritation when he reached the ground and turned out to be another really tall, impossibly broad elf, yet unlike the other ones that claimed to be Amelan’s grandfather and nephew, this one was dark haired… black hair actually. And dressed in simply cut yet fine tunic and leggings but strangely no boots. Life was just so… weird. “Not another one! Where did you find this one? In the clouds?” 

The strange elf blinked at her and then smiled slightly, looking very confused, yet somehow breathtakingly otherworldly. “Under a lake.” 

“Under a lake. Of course.” Rochelle nodded as if that made sense. 

Rain tugged her sleeve and whispered. “I want to be a dragon.”

There was a massive flare of gold magic, and then the dragon was gone and Amelan swayed in its place, looking strangely small in the huge print of crushed grass. “Woah. That… was the longest I’ve stayed like that.”

“Manwe’s tears!” The stranger startled violently. “You-” 

Ash bolted from her side and tackled Amelan in a hug, then turned to do the same for Fen’Harel and Lady Emma, then turned and signed at the stranger. She translated helpfully. “He says his name is Ash and it is a pleasure to meet you and then he asked for your name.” She looked at Amelan, feeling a bit too close to hysterical laughter or tears. Maybe both. “You were a dragon. Why were you a dragon?”

“You were a dragon.” The tall elf sounded just as shocked as she felt. “That’s… you were a dragon?”

“I am a dragon.” Amelan said, then sat down. “A very tired wolf dragon kossith… thing.” 

Lady Emma rolled her eyes and laid a hand on the tall elf’s forearm. “He’s the same one that was with me when you gave my bow back… he just learned some new tricks.”

The elf tilted his head, then blinked in recognition. “Oh. You prayed.”

Amelan huffed and then flopped onto his back in the grass. “Yeah. I’ve been known to do that on occasion. What is life, yeah?” 

The elf laughed… and it was strange to see but at the same time… it looked right on his face. “That had been… very strange. I was unsure what to do, Leal’sa charged me not to reveal myself… but being prayed to…” the elf shivered visibly.

Amelan laughed. “Oh, just be glad I didn’t have your true name at the time. Would have made it ten times more awkward if I had accidentally invoked you.”

Ash crossed his arms and Rochelle cleared her throat on his behalf. “Speaking of names, Ash would still like to be introduced.” 

The elf smiled at them… an honest, kind smile. “Forgive me, young master, and misses. I am Findeká- ”

“Not that name!” Amelan and Emma both blurted out suddenly, Amelan raising up onto his elbows in urgency to explain when the elf startled. “Names are powerful, don’t give out your true name like that. There are new magics around now.” 

“Fingon.” Lady Emma told them. “His name is Fingon the Valiant… or Valor. He has come a long way so, be helpful.” 

Rochelle curtseyed politely. “I am Rochelle, this is my friend and ward, Rain, and my friend, Ash.” She hesitated, studying the perplexed but kind expression on the elf’s face and added. “And if you need explanation for the complicated family tree of Amelan and Lady Emma, I have charts you may use.” 

“Thank you but I don’t-”

“Wait till you meet the kids before you say that.” Amelan said and pushed himself to his feet. “Speaking of, how much time before we’re ambushed, Ash?” 

Ash grinned and jerked a thumb back towards the castle. He must have ‘sounded the charm’. Fen’Harel sighed, but it was fond. “Forgive us, but you will probably be swarmed by curious children shortly. I meant for you to have time to rest before the wolves arrived.” 

The elf, Fingon, blinked in confusion. “Wolves?”

  
  
  
  


Fingon was… it was so awesome. Fingon. The Fingon was here. Little embarrassing because Damon had actually prayed at him years back, but Damon had stopped feeling embarrassed about stuff like that somewhere between finding out he had accidentally proposed to Cass and getting shot by his nephew. 

When the kids showed up during their walk back to Skyhold, Fingon was… he seemed to be enraptured by the sight of so many kids. Danielle had been chasing after them in her wolf form, carrying Ant on her back as she tried to keep them together in a group. Fingon had seemed worried, then shocked when Danielle had shifted back, smoothly switching Ant to her hip. “Hello, Papa, Mamae, Babae. Ser.” She dipped a half curtsey, then reached out and snagged Isy by the collar of her shirt. “Do not! Climb on strangers.” 

Fingon looked down in slight amused awe at the children as Gaelathe tilted his head back to look up at him. “Are you one of our relatives too?” 

Emma coughed. “Not directly, he is second cousins with Babala.”

Damon grinned as all of the children at the same time skipped over the ‘not directly’ part and latched onto ‘cousin’. “Cousin! We didn’t have one of those yet!” 

Ant squirmed out of Danielle’s hold and ran over to grab onto Fingon’s clothes with a bright grin “Cousin! I’m Ant!” Fingon suddenly had a hilarious mixture of terror and awe as he stared at Ant.

This was amazing. Damon started doing introductions. “This is Danielle, our second child, Gaelathe, our first, and Ash our third. Iselan and Emmaera, Emma and Solas’ children, Legolas the second, their milk brother, Anthony, my son, and…” He looked around with a frown. “Those other two...” He squinted at Rochelle and Rain. “Have we adopted you?” At their head shake he nodded. “They’re friends of Ash. Legolas the first is oddly absent.” 

“He is fetching Babala Del.” Danielle supplied.

Fingon blinked. “You… have-“

“Oh, I named Legolas the second after the first one before the first one was born.” Damon winced as Emma punched him in the side.

“You’re really tall!” Isy announced. 

Fingon looked down at her and then to Emma, his aura flashed in a request, asking permission. Emma smiled and nodded and he knelt down so he was not so tall… he was still taller than Isy while kneeling. “You are really small.” He spoke gently, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

Isy puffed up in indignation. “That’s not my fault! My mother is tiny! But I’m going to learn to be a wolf and then I’ll be really big like Babala Del and you.” 

Fingon didn’t seem to know how to respond to that but during his uncertain pause, Ant promptly climbed onto his back. “Now I’m bigger than you!”

“Uh, Ant-” Damon went to rescue Fingon from his kid. 

Fingon stood and Ant made a happy squeal, pulling an amused smile from the ancient, ancient elf. “Oh… what is this? I seem to have something stuck to my back?”

That… Damon may have made a squeaking noise. The Fingon the Valiant was  _ playing _ with his son. Life… was weird and awesome. 

Emma leaned back against Solas with a happy smile and hummed. “More relatives incoming.” 

Damon looked and sure enough, Del was walking towards them with Legolas trailing behind. Legolas seemed amused while Del seemed… he looked like he was staring at a ghost. 

Fingon looked up and stilled as Del neared, then dropped to one knee in a respectful bow… the same way Banal’ras addressed Solas and Emma when he felt like being a shit. “My king.” 

There was a beat of silence before Gaelathe said, “How many monarchs in the family does that make it now? I lost count.” 

“Babala Del! He’s our cousin!” Ant said proudly from Fingon’s back. 

Fingon huffed and reached back and snagged Ant by his shirt, lifting him from his back and setting him on the ground before addressing Del. He gestured for him to stand as he spoke. “Do you not think titles are a bit useless at this point, my friend?”

Del stood and immediately reached out and gripped Fingon’s forearm with a dazed smile. “Fingon… you-”

“Laurefindil.” Fingon greeted with a joyful smile, gripping Del’s forearm firmly. 

Del flinched and Damon cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s just Del now. You all can’t use your real names around… my family. We’re a bit fae.” 

Fingon frowned in confusion, “what does ones being have to do with it?”

“Everything.” Damon considered how to succinctly explain. “Uh… my family has the ability and weakness to… invoke one’s being with their true name, and be invoked. It’s not pleasant.”

“Compulsion.” Del spoke simply but seriously. “Keep your father and mother name to yourself, my king. Introduce yourself as Fingon only.” He paused, and then with a bit of humor added. “And when I introduce my wife please don’t be offended if she remains silent.”

Fingon looked even more confused but to his credit did not question it and smiled. “You bonded?”

“Yes-”

“And started a long family tradition of falling off of things, getting punched by one’s future spouse, and accidentally getting married.” Damon laughed, then pointed at Ash. “I’m watching you.” 

Ash only grinned.

Danielle cleared her throat delicately, “Mamae… A slow arrow flew in while you were gone, saying you aimed it.”

Solas suddenly straightened and looked alarmed. “How did he get through the barrier?”

“Uh, that was me.” Damon raised his hand and grinned unapologetically at Solas' shocked expression. "I'll explain after we meet him. Pups, shoo."

Taking Fingon back to Skyhold was… well he needs to open a space big enough for his dragon form to land closer to the castle… the walk alone exhausted the newly woken elf and Emma had fed him some mana to keep him on his feet long enough to be shown to a room. 

And then Solas had insisted they deal with Felassan and Emma was practically radiating amusement while refusing to explain until they were just outside the garden doors.

“You do realize that all this time he was mine right? Just like Banal’ras?” 

Solas made a growling sound in his throat and Damon took a pointed step to the side to remove himself from the line of ire. Also, coincidentally, to put him in the perfect position to see Solas' face when they walked into the gardens and Solas glared at somebody, then paled, then turned red and covered his face with his hands.

"Ai. Pala."

Felassan, who was in fact Celeborn, stood next to the gazebo with an amused smile, his aura had changed from last time, well not so much changed as… more. Brighter and older. "You are a very difficult elf to work with, Thranduil… in every form.”


	14. Chapter 14

Leal’sa, who prefered to go by Emma now, had an impossibly complicated family. Fingon had ended up requesting the charts from the child to try and make sense of the… tangled family. He quickly realized why the children had simply resorted to calling him ‘cousin’. The stretch of family from ancient times to the modern times was complex and somehow nearer than it should be. The birth order alone of Lea- of Emma and Solas’ children was enough to make him think the child had been jesting.

Solas, Emma, and her dragon brother Damon ruled the hidden lands of Fenvhenan, and as he reacustomed himself to having a physical form once more, they busied themselves with preparations to defeat the false ones. More ‘old ones’ as himself were within the walls of Skyhold. 

Celeborn and Galadriel, her daughter Celebrian and her bonded and vessel Elrond. And of course, Glorfindel was there. It made him… wonder who else she had stolen from the false one’s grasp and hidden away. 

Emma’s children were… fascinating, vibrant and bold and… many. They had claimed him as their cousin and it seemed not to matter to them that he was… out of place or had once held a title or anything of the matter. The little ones wanted to play with him and show him their work and the youngest boy, Anthony, had been delighted by his honest admiration when the boy had conjured a wisp of flame between his fingers. 

The trees. The trees had been reborn, sung into being by Damon and Emma, who bore the lights’ of the first trees. He had… never expected to see their light again but there the trees stood in the valley, bright and hale and… the gold and silver of Telperion and Laurelin would flash and flare between the siblings with their smiles and glances, that made his fea sing for joy. 

Damon had planted a white tree in the courtyard that felt… alive in a way things did not outside of the barrier of Fenvhenan. The odd man spent much time overseeing teams of magical… gardeners cultivating seedlings and cuttings from the tree and sending them out in carefully tended shipments. 

Emma had started overseeing the crafting of weapons from star metal, ordering that none of the ‘old’ elves touch it. Solas, her bonded, worked with a team of his ‘agents’ to work towards restoring the life back to the world. Everyone had their own task and the longer he was in Fenvhenan the more he felt… useless. And he wondered for what purpose Leal’sa had restored him. She had generals and commanders a plenty, most of the ‘old ones’ she had kept and saved were leaders and great warriors. 

He managed to find a moment of Emma’s time when she was not conferring with her bonded or the smithies to ask her of his purpose and… who else she had kept. 

She gave him a weary, pained look. “To be honest… you’re here now to help me fix something. Right a wrong.” She looked guilty but she waved it away. “I was not able to save as many as I wanted to. There’s a few more, two in particular I think you should be present for their embodiment.”

“What of my cousins?”

She winced and his heart sank as she quietly spoke. “Maedhros destroyed himself completely, there wasn’t enough left for me to save. I couldn’t find a single trace of Maglor. The others… the twins are of the false ones with their father. The others…” She closed her eyes as if bracing for a blow. “I was forced to destroy them. They… would not cease trying to bind me and people were dying because of it.” 

Fingon felt his heart fall in grief… his cousins at one point had been as close as brothers… Maedhros the most clear headed but most tortured by the dreadful oath he swore… that he had not been saved was the most painful blow, though his heart ached for the others lost… and the ones that had fallen so far with his uncle.

She touched his arm gently with a grim expression. “I am sorry. I tried.” She let out a breath that smelled faintly acidic before forcing on a smile. “I do have two others I managed to keep for you. If Damon feels up to flying us again, I can wake them for you.” 

Fingon took a breath to try to stem the grief in his heart, and nodded, not trusting his voice to speak at the moment. She understood and led the way to her brother’s study. Only to be greeted by a massive black wolf with its teeth bared. “Guess what I learned to do?!” 

“Solas will be thrilled.” Emma said dryly. Then smiled. “And good job. Fingon and I need a ride into the upper frostbacks to pick up a couple of sleepers.” 

The wolf’s ears laid back and it whined. “Why couldn’t you just put them all in one spot?” Its mouth did not move but the voice was definitely emanating from it.

Fingon blinked aside his shock at being greeted by a giant, speaking wolf… that was Emma’s brother as Emma wrinkled her nose. “I tried that and that’s why Galadriel is ghosting, Celebrian and Elrond are time sharing, and Celeborn is stuck short. Eggs in baskets… And June is a jerk.” 

The wolf let out a deep groan but shifted into his qunari form. “Alright. Lemme let Cass know we’ll be out. I’ll collect the troops.”

Troops? But Emma just punched her brother and laughed. “I’ll get them. You go kiss your wife.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am captain ma’am.” Damon saluted casually and sauntered off. Strange man… orc… kossith. Dragon. 

Emma seemed in higher spirits as she flitted away, fade stepping away, and then back with a sheepish expression. “Sorry. Habit. Lots of stairs.”

He shook his head as they continued on towards the ‘Family rooms’. She paused with her head tilted before opening a door quietly, a finger pressed over her lips in command of silence. She grinned through the opening and he looked to see Laur- Del, Solas, Celeborn, and Elrond standing in a round room, deep in thought over groups and ranks of toy soldiers and horses. The ground was painted in a map, and he noted that the figures were guarding key passes and waterways. 

Celeborn moved some of his figures, and Elrond let out an exasperated breath. “Must you? We are allies and I need reinforcements.”

“He tried to kill me.” Celeborn said with humor.

“I was not myself, and it was just the once.” Solas grumbled. “And so you try to take my ships…”

They were… playing a game of some sorts and it looked… fascinating. He startled when Emma nudged his arm. “Damon will be overjoyed to teach you how to play after.”

The four looked up at her voice and she grinned. “Babala, ma’lath, Elrond, are you up for a dragon ride to collect some Sleepers?”

Celeborn arched an eyebrow, “I am not invited?”

Emma grinned, “Only if Solas carries you. Nine is pushing it for Damon.” 

Celeborn opened his mouth, and Solas shook his head firmly. “No.”

“But you did try to kill me.” Celeborn said pointedly, raising a finger as if making a point. 

“I was-!” Solas sighed and turned on his heel. “No. I will meet you in the valley.” 

Celeborn looked at Emma. “Emma, did he not try to kill me?”

“He also tried to have his best friend executed.” Emma said brightly. “And frightened me half to death in a forest when I was younger. Death threats means he cares.”

Solas’ voice could be heard echoing down the hallway. “I am feeling very caring at the moment! Celeborn do not touch the board or your wife might have to intervene once more.”

Strange. People. All of them. 

  
  
  


Seeing the massive dragon again was just as shocking as before, even knowing beforehand what to expect. This time however, The Black Dragon could be seen bobbing his head and singing to itself as they approached. Solas let out a groan. “You had to tell him he could speak.” 

“-They'll wrap you up in a clean white ssssssheet, and put you down about ssssssixsss feet deep. They put you into a wooden boxssss, and cover you over with earth and rocksssss. It'ssssss not sssssso bad for the firsssst few weeksssss until your coffin beginssss to leak. The wormsssss crawl in, the wormssss crawl out, the wormsssss play-”

“Damon! Stop singing!” Emma shouted as they made their way to him.

The Black Dragon ducked his head sheepishly. “Ssssorry, didn’t hear you coming.” 

“It is even more disturbing with a lisp.” Solos grumbled as he moved to a clear area not far away. 

“I tried to ssssing Dragonforssssse, but it wassss too fasssst.” Damon grumbled and laid down. “Wasssste of an epic opportunity.” 

“Maybe, but now you can shout.” Emma said. “Think of the mayhem.” 

Fingon winced at the thought. “Do you really wish to hear him louder than he is already?”

“Oddly enough, their idea of shouting is worse than you are imagining.” Solas huffed and then in a flare of green magic, transformed into a white dragon nearly as large as Damon. “When they shout, things break.” His voice was deeper, rumbling, but distinctly his.

“Wait! You don’t have a lisssssp! Why don’t you have a lisssp?” The Black Dragon reared his head up in indignation but was careful not to throw off Elrond and L-Del as they climbed up.

“Practice.” Solas said smugly, then extended a wing for Emma to clamber up. “Try the rhyme, ‘Sally sells sea shells’... later.” He turned a massive green eye onto him as he… he was gaping. Fingon purposefully shut his mouth as Solas spoke. “Are you ready?”

He blinked, and nodded before asking hesitantly, “Do you do ‘barrel rolls’?”

“No, becausssssse he’ssssss boring and old asssss dirt.” Damon grumbled.

“Then… if I may, I would rather ride with you.” He said to The White Dragon... that was Solas… his mind hurt at their feats of magic. Lea’sa never transformed into more than a bird… and the mages he had seen by his lake had never been near as… accomplished as even that. Shadows of power almost. 

The ride was smoother than on Damon, who swooped and rolled and… played in mid air, sometimes darting in to snap playfully at Solas’ tail. Emma burst into laughter the third time and transformed into a silver raven, flying out to dive in circles around The Black Dragon’s head, distracting him from The White Dragon before she flew off, returning an hour later to land on Damon’s head, her wings spread for balance. 

“Must be nice to be that young.” Solas mused as he angled his wings to begin descending towards where Emma had spat a glowing light. He had to spread them again to steady himself as Damon dove past them swiftly, upsetting their flight with his bulk and speed as he passed, flaring his wings wide at the last second to slow and land.

Solas landed in a smoother, less dramatic fashion, and Fingon was glad he had been permitted to ride on his back instead. He felt much less nauseated this time.

Elrond was standing in front of Damon, their eyes glowing with the light that meant Celebrian was foremost. Their expression was delighted, their voice warped slightly as they spoke. “That was beautiful, thank you.” The black dragon huffed a bit of frost into their hair, and then the light dimmed and Elrond was foremost again. He grimaced. “At least she is fond of heights.” 

Emma shifted into her human form and paced around the ledge they had landed on before pressing her hand to the ground and flaring in silver light. Fingon could see the stone beneath her hand melt away at the touch of her power, revealing a set of stairs that led into a crypt with two stone beds, and upon them, two forms. His breath caught as he recognized one of the forms. Turgon, his brother. 

Solas shifted back to his elf form as the light faded and cautiously approached Emma with Del and Elrond at his heels. Emma smiled. “It’s safe now. You coming, Damon?”

“If I ssssshift back we have to wait till tomorrow to fly home.” The Black Dragon rumbled, then snaked his neck around so his great golden eye could see into the crypt. “You’re not making me ssssstay back thisssss time?”

Emma grinned with a little too much teeth. “Not thisssss time.”

Damon… stuck his tongue out at her. Fingon found himself impatient, longing to know if the form truly was for his brother. Emma gave him a sympathetic smile. “Let’s go wake him up, shall we?” 

Elrond sucked in a shocked breath when he saw the form next to his brother. “Miwen, why is-?”

Emma hushed him and she moved to sit next to the form of his brother. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

Fingon watched with bated breath as she worked her magic, carefully drawing his brother’s fea into the form and then gently coaxing him into breathing and blinking as she had with him. She sat back with a satisfied smile as Turgon drank from the flask she offered him. 

“There you are. Safe and sound.” She looked over at him and nodded before turning back to Turgon. “ Turgon, there’s some people here you know…” 

Turgon raised his eyes and Fingon had to fight to remain standing as his brother gaze landed on him widening in shock. “Fin-Findekono?” 

Fingon smiled and felt his fea leap in relief and at Emma’s gesture he moved and embraced his brother. “Turgon….” 

“But-“ Turgon started but shook his head. “It does… not matter.”

Fingon stood, intent on getting his brother out of the crypt. “Come we must get you into the light. It will help.”

Emma laid a hand on his forearm stilling his movements. “Hold on just a minute.” she smiled softly at his brother. “Turgon… do you see the smaller ellon standing next to lord Laurefindil?” Del flinched as Turgon looked over at Elrond and squinted but nodded. “Turgon meet Elrond, Eärendil’s son, Elrond meet Turgon. Your great grandfather.”

Turgon seemed dazed, and Fingon could well imagine he was… overwhelmed. 

Emma smiled at them before moving to the other figure, who was taller than the ‘modern elves’ but shorter than himself Turgon and Laur- Del. 

Elrond seemed… suddenly upset. “Miwen, why is he... shorter?” 

Emma bit her lip and looked between the figure and Elrond with clear embarrassment. “Because, Elrond… at the time I was very emotionally unstable… and I am not a perfect being… I have been known to have bouts of spite… and this was one of them.”

Solas coughed in an attempt to hide his amusement and Elrond just… pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah.” 

Emma suddenly snorted, “It was either his height or his… but that felt too juvenile.”

The dragon outside the crypt began laughing and Fingon steadied his brother when he startled, his eyes wide. “Drake!”

“Damon actually.” Elrond spoke, walking over to stand next to the other figure. “He will not harm us.”

Emma’s hands suddenly lit with magic, and she slapped them to the still figure’s face. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.” 

The figure bowed, and then fell and Emma grimaced. “Breathe. In. Out. There you go. All yours.” She stepped back and gestured at Elrond, who gave her an irritated glance as he stepped into guide the figure into settling into their physical form. With the fea there… he looked… familiar? 

Fingon watched as Elrond helped the elf sit up and offered him the same flask, his movements oddly respectful. After a moment, the elf blinked around at those watching, his eyes settling on Emma with puzzlement. “Miwen?”

“Tada!” Emma said dryly. “The mad edain saved you from eternal enslavement.” 

The elf’s brow furrowed, “I was-“ he then looked at her. “You are... taller.”

“Actually, you’re just shorter. You lost about…” Emma tilted her head. “Seven inches.”

“Miwen,” Elrond’s voice sounded… torn between admonishment and pleading. “Please.”

Emma grumbled. “He tried to throw me away… but fine.” She sighed and put on a polite smile. “ I pulled your fea from Mandos’ Halls to keep you from being enslaved, hid you until it was safe to embody you, which is now, because I need you for a ritual to take down two of the false gods. Soo…” Emma gestured between the shocked elf and him. “Gil’galad, meet your father and uncle, Fingon and Turgon, Fingon, this is your jerk of a son, Gil’galad, or Artanáro as you named him.” 

His son? His son! Who… had apparently done something to earn Emma’s spite. 

Gil’galad suddenly gasped and pressed a hand to his chest and Emma’s mouth twisted. “But you probably shouldn’t use that name.” 

“What do you mean, ‘tried to throw you away’?” The Black Dragon rumbled and moved its great head closer to the crypt entrance, making Turgon stiffen in wariness and Gil’galad to pale and scramble to his feet, only to trip and have to be caught by Elrond before he fell over his new legs. 

Solas suddenly couldn’t seem to contain his amusement and was now outright laughing. Emma had a sharp edge to her smile as she spoke. “He tried to ‘give’ me to an edain king while I begged him not to. So, oh, yeah, Gil’galad, meet my brother, Damon, The Black Dragon. You are riding back with him so behave.” 

Fingon was unsure how to feel as the Black Dragon growled deep in his chest and Gil’galad paled. His son… who had earned Leal’sa’s ire.

Leal’sa looked… vindictive as she turned to him. “Unfortunately, we cannot simply let him wander off by himself, and so I charge you, Fingon Fingolfin’ion, with his care.” 

Fingon nodded in acceptance, but Gil’galad looked at her in irritated surprise, but stayed silent. Solas snorted in amusement and Elrond closed his eyes as if resigned. 

“Miwen-“ Elrond started but she cut him off with a glance. 

“Would you rather I slap him? Because I will. Gladly.” Emma shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not above spite and I had to pass over getting to Amdir in time to get him so… slightly irritated on top of holding a grudge.” 

Fingon looked at his son in concern. What had he done?

  
  
  
  


Solas felt… oddly fond of Emma. He had been irritated at every meeting with the former Noldor King and to see the… admittedly petty revenge Emma had wrought was… satisfying. And amusing. He was very aware that the former king was now  _ exactly _ one inch shorter than Legolas, and was trying to keep a brave face on but was giving terrified glances at Damon, who was staring at him in open suspicion, frost pooling around his head with every breath. 

Turgon was faring better when faced with Damon’s dragon form, mostly due to Fingon’s reassurance. As they worked to move the others outside,’into the sun’, Emma paced around the crypt three times, then stopped at a wall and opened a cut on her hand and pressed it to the stone. She healed the wound as the stone groaned and pulled away to reveal a second room. 

She looked back at him and bit her lip in thought before speaking. “Solas, would you- I mean…” she looked down at her hands her aura and bond resonating uncertainty, and she gestured into the room. “If you want?”

He furrowed his brow at her and let their bond relay his confusion as he pushed off of the wall he had had been leaning against and walked over to her, “Emma’lath?”

She didn’t answer but gestured to the doorway that led to another chamber. He looked where she indicated and stilled at the sight of… himself. A form like his first… carefully laid out and protected with her magic. She spoke hesitantly beside him. “I… singing forms was about the only thing I could do without pain, back then. Guiding the magic of the world instead of my own. I… made as many as I could and… hoped. But… if…” She trailed off uncertainly, her aura singing with nervousness.

She had… hoped and prepared and kept him safe as she could for so, so long. He turned and gathered her into his arms, pressing his face into her hair. “Emma’lath… you honor me with your love.” 

She gave a shuddering laugh and pulled back. “So… are you tired of looking up at your son?”

He grimaced. He had always been dissatisfied with this form, and being around his son had only made it worse, it felt… wrong when he hugged him. “Yes.” 

Emma… his Emma… Miwen, took his hand with a small soft smile and led him into the chamber and guided him to sit on an empty stone bed next to his first form… she had prepared for this. 

She bit her lip and looked at him in concern. “It might hurt… but only at first, I need to sever the tie to this body.”

Ah yes… The body he had been forcibly bound to. “It is alright.” He reached for and picked up her hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to her fingers before pulling her to him to kiss her one last time in this form. When he pulled back he smiled at her and laid back. “I am ready, ma’lath.”

  
  
  


Del was having a little trouble deciding what emotion to focus on. His kings returned brought joy and relief, Gil'galad's… height was amusing, Turgon’s awe at meeting his descendent brought fond understanding, and Damon… Damon brought exasperation. 

The boy had taken Emma’s ire to heart and was doing his best to intimidate Gil'galad. Successfully. He was stretched around the crypt and them like a great cat, letting out low growls if Gil'galad looked at him for too long. He found himself with the urge to slap his grandson's nose in admonishment but resisted, there was no true harm after all.

Emma and Thranduil had been in the crypt for some time when Damon spoke, startling Turgon and Gil’galad. "You two had better not be doing what I think you are. That'ssss jusssst creepy and wrong." 

Turgon’s eyes narrowed in thought before he spoke hesitantly. "You are… Leal’sa's… brother?"

Damon reared his head back smugly. "Yessss. Ssshee isss my ssssissster. Del isss my grandfather."

Gil'galad and Turgon’s both very obviously looked over Damon's dragon form and then over him in confused horror. 

He did give in to the urge to slap Damon, though his hand just glanced off the scales. "Behave. My wife is human. Damon is just a brat and the lineage… complicated."

Elrond rolled his eyes. “That is not his normal form. Shapeshifting has become something of a pastime with them.”

"Sssspoilssssport." Damon yawned exaggeratedly, showing off his teeth, then turned his eye towards the crypt entrance. Emma emerged, supporting…

"You turned Ssssolassss back into Thranduil?!" Damon let his head fall to Earth in a ground shaking thud. "I'm not going to be taller than anyone anymore!"

Del felt honest joy at the sight of Thranduil restored and Emma's tired but pleased expression as she handed Thranduil to Fingon to support and began sealing the crypt once more.

Damon watched curiously before looking at Thranduil. "Hey Sssssolssss. What do you call a redhead?" He answered his own question through hissing laughter. "A brain russssted blonde." 

Thranduil gave Fingon a flat look. "You had to ask him if he could speak."

"You have my apologies." And Fingon looked honestly regretful.

"At least you can't hear him in your head." Emma said brightly. "It's fanboy squee up in there."

Damon reared his head up and opened his jaws wide and set them over Emma, caging her within his rows of massive teeth. The others shouted in alarm as he huffed out a breath of frost. Del held up a hand to stop Fingon from going to Emma's aid. He had received the same treatment after a joke and while unpleasant, was no worse than Isy's trapped seats.

A moment later Damon lifted his head and an unscathed Emma glared up at him. "What have you been eating? Your breath stinks."

"That… was mildly upsetting to see." Turgon sighed as he relaxed slightly.

"He's less bitey than the dragon who had me in their mouth last time." Emma smiled brightly and Damon immediately looked uncomfortable and she looked up with an eye roll. "You know my husband-"

Damon abruptly relaxed and snickered as Thranduil interrupted her with a tired groan. "Not again. No. The wolf jokes are bad enough."

“ Well… you are sssuddenly bigger than before, dragon jokessss sssseem appropriate.” 

Del sighed. That apple fell straight from Shunmahayr’s tree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yes, we know Gil'galad's parentage is uncertain, so we're just going with the father named in the books we both own*


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Emma sings: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TgRZ2Y7iwk

Damon was having the time of his life. Dragon back rides to some of  _ the most renowned warriors ever _ , except Gil'galad was apparently a dick. Disappointing really, but oh well. He was very, very silent on the flight home, though Fingon and Turgen caught up and Damon actually kept the flight steady this time because he was shamelessly eavesdropping. When they passed through the barrier, Turgon suddenly trailed off in the middle of his sentence.

“Who…? That magic is familiar to me.” 

“It isssss mine. I hid my landssss.” Damon felt pretty proud of himself for that. “Asss you did.” 

Del snorted, “Damon your enchantment is less… subtle than My Lord Turgon’s had been.”

“I do not think ‘subtle’ is in his vocabulary.” Solas who was Thranduil snarked.

Damon allowed himself to drop in the air for a few seconds to turn his head back to look at Del, earning a few yelps of surprise. “You’re not going to get all formal all of the sssssudden are you?” 

“No! Start flying!” Del growled, gripping one of the shoulder spikes with white knuckles. “I am experiencing unpleasant memories.” 

“Sssssorry.” He apologized sheepishly. He had forgotten about the… falling thing. He straightened out and kept the flight smooth and when they landed in the valley, he waited patiently for everyone to get off, then stepped back so he could see their faces when he shifted back. 

Turgon blinked. Then not so subtly rubbed his eyes and blinked again. Gil’galad looked… terrified. Fingon shook his head, “I do not believe that will get any less disturbing to see no matter how many times I see it happen.”

Damon laughed and snagged Solas/Thranduil’s arm and… “Yes. Still taller.” 

Emma snorted as Solduil shook his arm free with an exasperated laugh. “And you are still as much of a puppy as ever.”

“Woof.” He grinned and since Fingon was helping support wobbly Gil’galad and Del was helping Thranduil, he moved to help support Turgon. The wise. Life was so awesome. “Have I mentioned lately that you are awesome, Emma?”

Emma laughed. “Yes, but I’m glad you appreciate the sudden influx of old ones.”

“You know I do.” He grinned and nudged Solas/Thranduil as he caught up with them, able to support Turgon’s weight pretty easily. “Sooooo what to call you? Fen’Harel? Solas? Thranduil?” He paused and Solas looked at him warily. “Solduil? Solfenduil? Thran’harlas? Dude, the possibilities are endless.” 

“Solas or Thranduil is fine, and I am not above icing every inch of your floors again.” 

“Point made and taken.” Solduil it is. They walked a minute more and then Damon felt a tug of magic, Danielle warning them. “Wolf pups incoming.” 

“Turgon, you are about to meet my dysfunctional family.” Emma said brightly.

Turgon huffed a laugh, “Are they worse than mine?”

“I don’t think that is possible, my dude.” Damon winced. “Y’all had a mess of things.” 

Turgon frowned and mouthed the word ‘dude’ with a confused expression. “I am unfamiliar with that word.”

Damon grinned. “It’s a title of familiar admiration among friends. And since you’re Emma’s friend and basically already claimed as family...” he shrugged. “Thus, Dude.”

“Family?” Turgon looked even more confused.

Fingon smiled over Gil’galad’s head. “We are second cousins to Glorfindel, their grandfather. Their children settled on calling me ‘cousin’. It is simpler.” 

Turgon frowned but nodded thoughtfully. “There are many generations that separate us still.”

“Time lost all meaning when Emma married Solas while she was young and had two kids and then Thranduil married Emma when he was young and had a kid. We just keep track of it all just in case because we aren’t southern enough to risk marrying family.” 

Emma suddenly stopped in her tracks next to Solduil. “Oh. My. God!” She looked back at Gil’galad with her nose wrinkled. “Dammit all, he’s my cousin!”

Damon looked between Emma, who seemed to be sulking, and Gil’galad who suddenly looked horrified. “So… that’s a no on feeding him to the wolves?” 

Gil’galad’s eyes widened and Emma pretended to think, even tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, no feeding family to the wolves. Unless he makes the kids cry.” She looked at him and pointed. “Hear that, Cousin Gil? Don’t make my babies cry.”

Fingon looked troubled as he glanced between him and Emma. “You would not truly…” at the same time as Gil’galad said. “This is madness!”

“Yeah. That’s what you said last time too.” Emma said sweetly. 

“Miwen, it has been tens of thousands of years.” Elrond said in exasperation. 

“Yes, it has.” Emma smiled sweetly but said nothing further.

Damon snorted. “I really, really want the full story on that.” 

Emma hummed. “I can do a transference?” 

“That would be great. I want all of the details so I can hold a detailed grudge as well.” He said lightly. Del rolled his eyes but seemed resigned to it all while Solduil seemed delightedly amused.

Turgon and Fingon both frowned but Damon shrugged. “The family that holds grudges together stays together.” 

Gil’galad frowned at him, but remained silent as they moved forward, slowly. Really, really needed a dragon landing pad in the castle. Two more minutes and a pack of kids and wolves burst into view. Danielle was wolfed out and the kids had brought his cubs with them so it really did look like an actual pack of wolves and kids, Legolas looking exasperated as he kept up with them, holding Ant.

“Must you dash about like feral beastlings at all times?” 

Danielle yipped in affirmative, then drew up short in front of the new old ones with Legolas and Ash at her sides, his cubs flanking her perfectly and the kids arraying themself just as perfectly behind them. It looked impressive, and would look hella intimidating when they were past waist high. Damon spared a glance at Gil’galad, who had begun to look a little pale again. 

Legolas blinked and set Ant down with a surprised, “Ada!?”

Solduil grinned. “You are no longer taller than me.”

Legolas looked torn between disappointment and delight and Emma walked forward to pat his arm in comfort. “Don’t worry, you’re taller than the former Noldor king Gil’galad now.” 

Gil’galad flushed in furious embarrassment but seemed to deem silence wisest with a wary glance at the panting wolves. Isy and Emy scrunched up their noses in an identical fashion. “Babae looks weird.” Isy frowned.

Emy darted forward and sniffed at Solduil’s sleeve, instinctively testing his magic with the action, then shrugged. “It’s him. Different shape but still babae.” 

Solduil smiled and removed his arm from Del’s shoulder to wobbly stand on his own before carefully crouching down and hugging her. “Still me, my dream.” 

Isy stomped her foot in a decidedly Rochelle manner. “No fair! I’m stuck short!” But after her little outburst she ran into her father’s arms for a hug as well.

Him being at an accessible level was cue for the other littles to pounce on him, and Solduil was quickly unbalanced with a laugh and accepted his fate as he was swarmed in hugs and excited chatter over his new form, then just as quickly abandoned so they could look at the others. Apparently being in a family of shapeshifters lent a certain air of acceptance to suddenly changing appearances. Danielle shifted back and she and Ash offered their babae help up. Del immediately stepped back to support him as soon as he was upright.

Isy tilted her head up at Turgon who was looking back at her in an equal measure of fascination. “Are you family too?”

“Cousin Fingon, him, and the scared one all share blood.” Gaelathe said in his adorably creepy manner. “So most likely.” He paused then frowned consideringly. “Three of blood, kept…”

“Later, honey.” Emma shushed him but squeezed his shoulders in a fond side hug. “Yes, they are distant family.”

“Close enough!” Isy announced and hugged Turgon’s legs. “I’m Isy!”

Turgon’s face melted into a soft almost wistful expression. “Hello, Isy. I am Turgon.”

Damon whistled sharply when he saw the cubs gather their legs up at the hope of playing. “Sit.” The cubs sat immediately and he turned to the old ones to do quick introductions. “Legolas the first, Iselan, Emmaera, Ash, Anthony, Danielle, Gaelathe, and Legolas the second. All of them are ours.” He did another headcount and frowned. “There’s normally two more here but they aren’t actually ours.”

“Rochelle and Rain are experimenting with the tree and will.” Gaelathe said and tilted his head at Gil’galad, who had his mouth pressed into a tight line as he looked over the children and the wolves and then Emma and him. “They won’t actually hurt you. They’re powerful but not maylishe-” He paused and tried again, pronouncing exactly. “Ma-lic-ious.” 

Damon pouted exaggeratedly and was rewarded with a surge of amusement from both Solas and Emma through their links. “Yeah, he’s your cousin too. Pups, home.” He put a bit of will into the command and the cubs turned and trotted back towards the castle obediently. Fingon seemed startled and looked at him curiously. 

“Also the reason your babae and mamae got together for the first time.” Elrond said dryly but with a pointed look at her.

Solduil grimaced and Emma blinked then sighed. “Dammit… he’s right.” She ran her hand over her face and sighed again and then shot Gil’galad a forced smile. “Right, we’re even, cousin Gil.”

Gil’galad looked a little off put by the ‘cousin’, probably the ‘Gil’ as well, and said nothing until Elrond not so subtly nudged him with his elbow. “Very well.” He grumbled quietly. 

“Ah. The spite makes a lot more sense.” Damon mused then clapped his hands together, “Right, I know you kiddos are excited, but maybe save the introductions for family dinner. They just woke up.” 

There was a chorus of ‘awws’ but Danielle grabbed Leggy and Isy by their waists and they went limp and Emy and Gaelathe followed her primly. Legolas snagged Ant before he could utilize Turgon as a climbing post. “I will have the rooms you prepared made ready.” He paused and gave a bright, charming smile at Gil’galad. “A pleasure to meet you, cousin Gil.”

Gil’galad grimaced but inclined his head politely and Solas’ face was perfectly smooth but he radiated proud amusement as he watched Legolas leave with the Littles. 

Turgon’s eyes followed the children in the same awed fascination Fingon had around them. Children really were rare and treasured for elves and so many of them had to be overwhelming and wonderful for the old ones.

“Don’t worry, they won’t leave you alone the moment you show any willingness to give them attention.” He reassured, then realized. “Em… You know if you keep digging up old relatives we’re going to need a bigger family hall.” 

“I’m not meaning to dig up relatives, they’re just all related.” Emma threw up her hand in exasperation. “Somehow.” 

He laughed and they made their way the rest of the way to Skyhold. Emma and Solduil almost immediately excused themselves to slowly make their way towards their room but Damon will admit he busted into laughter when Solas, now almost seven foot tall, Thranduil hit his head on the first door frame he went through.

  
  
  
  


Embodiment had not been pleasant. He had no memory beyond… he was in Mandos’ Halls and suddenly there had been a cloud of acidic, mottled magic… and then suddenly it was hard to breathe and Miwen had been standing over him with a fierce expression as he struggled to remember how to have a physical form. 

It had not been made easier by the realization she had… made him shorter out of spite, or that somehow his father and uncle were there, impossibly alive, as was Elrond, though he was also in a lessened form, and Thranduil, and Glorfindel, all of them somehow there due to the mad edain’s power.

And the mad edain… could somehow compel his fea.

And the dragon. 

Her brother, she claimed, the Dragon had taken an instant dislike to him on her word alone and he could barely remember how to move his limbs, let alone survive an angry drake, skin changer or not. 

He had been pointedly informed of the precarious position he was in as Miwen had echoed his own words ages ago, charging her to another's care. She had commanded his father, once king of the Noldor… and his father had simply nodded in acceptance. She held the power now, and she held resentment against him. Resentment echoed in the drake’s growls and glares. 

And the drake… was indeed a skin changer, a powerful one, an orc with horns and clear of Sauron's corruption, that was all smiles and jokes to everyone except him. Miwen and her... brother held no fondness for him, but commanded the respect of the others. They dubiously claimed him as family, which… he was  _ not _ related to the mad edain or the orc, but he was also loathe to dispute it as the orc seemed to take being distantly and dubiously related enough protection from being thrown to wolves.

Unless he upset the mad edain’s ‘babies’. It was frustrating and humiliating and he could do nothing more than name it madness. His stature had been altered, he had been…  _ given _ to his father as a charge, and now was being threatened with death by wolves if he upset the mad edain’s offspring. All for being rightfully suspicious and wary of a madwoman who walked as one of Sauron’s creatures and used impossible magics and seemed to entrance everyone around her with her ramblings and wanderings? 

And though Elrond did remind her that it had been ages since he had treated her as the mad woman she is, no one spoke in his defense. His father, who he had not seen since he was an elfling, looked troubled, but said nothing, apparently accepting her ruling. And… there were indeed wolves and children. Many of them, of different races, and one of the wolves a skinchanger child. The eldest was the son of Thranduil and Miwen, and Gil’galad fought to remain silent and wise in the face of the humiliation of the mad edain’s cheerful mockery of his shortened stature and the wolves watching him intently. 

There was no decorum observed. The children swarmed about them eagerly, embracing their father and asking questions and tumbling about like a pack of spoiled pups. One of them, a solemn, tiny elf child, named him ‘scared’ and then spoke of his shared blood with his father and uncle, saying it was the reason he had been ‘kept’, and once declared ‘family’, the tiny child tried to… reassure him he would come to no harm, as if he had a say in the matter. Which, by the proud and protective manner the orc and Miwen watched the children, he just might. 

Once again, Elrond was the one who spoke in his defense, and the mad edain begrudgingly accepted it, declaring them ‘even’, as if her altering his stature and threatening his life and placing him under his father’s charge as one would a stranger was the same as his suspicion of her. Elrond pointedly reminded him he was in no position for pride and he accepted her declaration of being ‘even’. With her magic and allies and dragon skinned orc, she was not a woman he could survive irritating further.

There was no decorum, no propriety whatsoever. Servants and guards approached alike, speaking without being acknowledged, some of them even thrusting papers into Miwen and the orc’s hands as they passed without more than a salute and barest of bows. They called the orc Amelan and Miwen they called Leal’sa and on one occasion, a small elf with tattoos covering the side of her face called them collectively ‘Tanathe’. All of them overlooked Elrond and his father and even his uncle and Glorfindel without more than a glance. 

They split ways, ‘Amelan’ escorting Turgon to a nearby room and leaving his father to take him to a room the tattooed elf had pointed out. Gil’galad inwardly cursed the weakness and newness of his limbs as he had to lean on his father for support until he was set down on a bed. His father stepped back and looked at him with wondering eyes and Gil’galad was reminded that he had been an elfling when last Fingon had seen him. 

“You have changed…” Fingon… his father looked pensive. “You…” he paused before he sighed and turned to sit in a chair nearby. “You probably do not even remember me.”

“Enough to recognize you.” What could he say? His father had been away at war… he saw him rarely, then he had fallen. In truth he did not know the ellon who’s shadow he had always been under.

Fingon looked grieved for a moment before putting on a smile. “At least Leal’sa has made it possible for us to meet anew.” 

‘Leal’sa’ the mad Edain who had curried favor among the sindar kings… in truth he knew why they had disregarded his orders, why they had charged early and he blamed her for it. Their deaths had felt like a heavy chain about his neck and it could have been avoided if not for the maddened Edain. “Why do you hold the edain in such high esteem?” He asked in frustration. 

His father frowned. “To be truthful… I find myself more concerned with why she holds you with such little. She has ever been… fond of the old ones.” 

Gil’galad felt himself growl. “She was found behind enemy lines, reportedly appearing from ‘thin air’, and when brought for questioning, inflicted despair and pain on every soul in the encampment with her magic. She was mad, dangerous, and secretive and held the form of one of Sauron’s creatures. I treated her with just suspicion.” 

“An unfortunate first meeting.” His father frowned pensively. “She said you tried to give her away.”

“She had been sowing discontent and mistrust among the kings, they were entranced by her and began catering to her every whim. When the edain kings asked for her to be returned to her kind, I agreed.” He felt strangely like a child trying to explain a broken vase and his pride rankled at yet another indignity. “A battlefield was no place for an edain woman and they held us in enough mistrust I could not risk being seen as keeping one of their kind against their will.” and he had leaped at the chance to rid himself of the troublesome woman. ”In the end, she was the reason we all fell.” Glorfindel even had taken her and left, more concerned with protecting her than his duty. 

Fingon looked down at his hands and was silent for a few moments before he spoke, his voice quiet. “You know, Leal’sa restored me a few weeks ago… and I have taken that time to get to know Del. He paints a very different picture of Leal’sa’s condition when he found her.” Fingon looked up from his hands and his dark eyes scrutinizing him. “A broken bond… many broken bonds. She had lost her bonded, her children, her brother, her family, her home. Her spirit torn and lashing out and desperately controlled as best she could.”

Gil’galad started to try to explain more but Fingon silenced him with a glance. “Your mother sailed when I fell… the grief too much for her fea.” Gil’galad looked down at his hands, remembering the haunted look in his own mother’s face long before news came of Fingon’s death. She had known. “Your mother only lost me. Now think of that pain… ten fold. Children, siblings, friends, the entirety of your world? Would it have been too much to try and show compassion to one who had suffered so?” 

“We only had her word and her magic to judge by, and I trust neither.” Gil’galad set his jaw against his father’s reproach. He had done what he thought was wise. 

“Yet even now, faced with the physical evidence that what she said was so, you still feel that she has wronged you?”

Of course she had wronged him. She had purposefully… lessened him and humiliated him and threatened him. “She-“

“Made you shorter.” Fingon finished his sentence before it was out of his mouth. “By her own words, she passed on saving  Amdír , someone who treated her with kindness during her pain to save  _ you… _ from a fate much worse than hurt pride and loss of stature.”

“What fate!?” Gil’galad raised his voice in the anger he felt burning in his chest. What fate could she have saved him from? He had been in the Halls of Mandos. What could be-

“Slavery. Artanáro.” Fingon’s voice was chillingly hard, sharp enough to make his very spirit tremble, as he leveled him with disappointed eyes. “Complete loss of one’s self. The false ones were pulling spirits from Mandos’ Halls and binding them. She saved you from a fate she could not save her own bonded from.”

Gil’galad felt himself flush at the chastisement. He had nothing… could say nothing. He was being chastised as an elfling who would not be nice to their playmates. 

Fingon sighed heavily and stood. “Enough, for now I have said my piece. You must rest, the sleep will help you acclimate to your form.” He paused at the door. “Even if you cannot make peace with her, I would advise treating her respectfully. Her family loves her and she has earned the respect of many.” 

Gil’galad watched him leave the room. He hated the feeling of shame that wanted to creep it’s way into his chest. He had done nothing wrong. Why should he feel ashamed? He tried to rest, tried to fall into meditation. He could not.

By the time a servant knocked on the door to inform him that he was invited to dine with Amelan’s family or could have a meal brought to his room, he felt mentally exhausted even though his form felt slightly less awkward than before. A secluded meal sounded… almost as if it were a trap. ‘Gil’galad refused to eat with me and my family’. Politics. Miwen was powerful now with aAllies… each would draw their own conclusions on him but with her coloring influence. Already The Black Dragon held him in contempt.

He wearily accepted the invitation. Politics, he knew. How to feel of his father’s chastisement… less so. He made ready and allowed the servant to guide him through winding stone hallways to a room that the servant would not enter, would not even touch the door. He raised a questioning eyebrow at them before opening the door, only to be greeted by the three wolves from the valley, their hackles raised and low growls in their throats. 

‘Hel, Fenrir, Jorri! No. He’s a cousin.” The scolding voice came from one of the tiny children with dark red curls. She was not even of height with their shoulders but the wolves subsided at the child’s words, but kept their eyes fixed on him intently as they stepped aside to allow the child to approach him. “Hi, I’m Isy, we met but new people always get me and my sister confused so just reminding. I’m Isy.”

One of Miwen’s children that he must not upset lest she allow the orc to set his wolves on him. He inclined his head politely. “A star shines on the hour of our meeting, young Isy, I am Gil’galad.”

The child blinked, then put a fist over her heart. “May the moon shine bright on your hunts, Cousin Gil’galad.” He was… touched, Miwen’s offspring or not the young child had shown a gravity that- she startled him by gripping his hand and tugging him towards another door. “Formal greetings over, are you hungry? Babae said you haven’t eaten in… a loooooooong time.” 

Her sudden familiarity shocked him into allowing her to pull him into another room with a pile of rugs and pillows scattered around the floor and once inside she called out. “Found the last one he’s not a wolf either!”

“Aww! None of the old ones are wolves.” a voice said from under a pillow moments before another red haired child emerged and he guessed them to be twins by their likeness.

“Not all of your family can be feral, Emy.” a child he did not know said from his left. She was blonde and human, but had an orc girl at her side. “Greetings, sir. I am Rochelle and this is Rain.” the child curtseyed slightly. “May I guess you are one of the unearthed cousins of theirs that Lady Emma keeps dragging here?”

“Cousin Gil’galad.” The tiny, solemn elf child from the valley appeared and bowed slightly before turning to smile at Isy. “Papa made brownies!” 

“Brownies!? Awesome!” The smallest orc child piped up from under another pile of pillows. 

The larger orc child came into the room through another door and grinned at him, the expression pulled crooked by the deep scar across his neck and face. He moved his hands and Rochelle spoke imperiously, her chin lifted and spine straight as if she was a queen. “Ash, I am dining with your family tonight.” 

The orc child, Ash, let out several silent breaths that Gil’galad guessed were meant to be laughs, and moved his hands again. Rochelle smiled. “Of course. Ser Gil’galad, your cousin Ash wishes to inform you that supper is ready.” 

He did not have a chance to ask if the child could not speak, if the hand movements were a method of communication, or even to think before the red haired children had begun pulling him towards the door Ash had come out of with excited chatter about ‘brownies’. The three wolves followed closely enough to occasionally bump his back with their noses in barely restrained threat, though they moved away to lay next to a great hound in the corner of the room the children dragged him into. There were several tables, all nearly filled with people. Turgon, his father, Glorfindel and a tiny edain woman, Legolas and a dwarf, the other children, a dark haired edain man and a small elleth, and Elrond and another of the smaller ellons. A dark haired edain woman and Miwen were speaking quietly together over an empty seat and Miwen shot him a sharp glance, her eyes roving over the children before turning back to her conversation, apparently satisfied they were not in tears and dismissing him from her notice. 

It stung his already wounded pride. The children released him and ran to different seats and soon he was left with only two options of where to sit, beside his father or between Miwen and the dark haired edain woman. A simple choice. He exchanged polite greetings as he sat and looked over the extensive crowd at the table in a bit of overwhelmed confusion. Were all these people truly Amelan’s family, even dubiously or distantly related as himself? 

The table was laden with trays of food and there were empty plates set before each place and not a servant in sight. Miwen’s… brother came in and sat between Miwen and the dark haired woman, sharing a public kiss with the woman without a moment’s hesitation. The others began placing food on their own plates as and there seemed to be no order to it. Turgon looked as lost as he felt, but Fingon had apparently grown accustomed to the… chaos as he simply served himself, and then poured a simple broth into the bowls in front of them. There were no polite yet cutting words, no couched motives, the people simply… talked and played amongst themselves. If there were politics at play, it was none he was familiar with.

The skinchanger child was sitting across from him and he found himself watching in astonished silence as she began conjuring ice, forming it into shapes of birds and wolves and floating them into the glasses of the clamoring children. All of the children seemed to have the same casual, extreme use of magic as Miwen did, the twins floating vegetables above their plates, the orc girl summoning little lights and flicking them into the air, even the small orc child would summon little wisps of fire to melt the ice wolves the skinchanger was sending to him. 

He startled as a small wolf made of golden light ran across the table in front of him, chasing a silver deer. He looked over to see both Amelan and Miwen’s eyes glowing with the same lights as they controlled the constructs, racing them in front of the children’s places for their amusement. The two elfling boys concentrated and between them brought out a simple serpent form that blocked the path between the plates. 

Gil’galad found himself drawn into the drama of the magical show, the serpent guarding the path, the deer trying to flee from the wolf, and the wolf trying to catch the deer. Then the elder Legolas drew out his own magic and formed an eagle that swooped in and caught up the wolf in its claws, ending the drama. The constructs dissipated into the air and the children returned to their meal as if they had not just witnessed and participated in something extraordinary. 

He looked about the table, but all except for his father and uncle seemed completely unphased by the frivolous feat of magic. His father started up conversation with the skinchanger child about the magic and Gil’galad focused on trying to stomach the broth. His new form was unused to eating, as was he. He had long lived in Mandos’ Halls as a spirit before Miwen had locked him away. A sensation of being watched struck him and he looked over to find the one called Amelan watching him with his head tilted slightly, as if he was a puzzle to be scrutinized. 

He met his gaze, refusing to be cowed even with Miwen’s disapproving look and the casual magic and the wolves still staring at him from the corner. Amelan studied him for a moment longer, then made an intrigued noise in his throat before turning away to speak to the dark haired edain about the hound. 

Miwen startled and looked at Amelan in horror, a soft, “No…” escaping her. Amelan looked back at her with raised eyebrows, and then Thranduil abruptly looked delighted. Miwen threw up her hands with an exasperated sound and Thranduil snorted, and then Amelan leaned back with a shrug. 

Gil’galad frowned at the trio. It was almost as if they were having a silent argument. Miwen threw her hand out towards him with an irritated expression, and Amelan shrugged. An argument… about him? He found himself uneasy when Miwen sighed in resignation and Thranduil looked amused. Amelan glanced at him with an unreadable expression before returning to his conversation with the dark haired man, who was apparently his and Miwen’s father. Loghain. 

Nothing was said directly to him the entirety of the meal, and while it felt…  strange to be ignored, he took the opportunity to glean the names of those around them and the subtle hierarchy of the chaotic group. Amelan was the clear leader, both Miwen and Thranduil subtly deferring to him though he turned to them just as often, a sort of collective heading. The dark haired edain was Amelan’s wife, Cass, a warrior who held firm sway over the children along with Loghain, while the others seemed to simply indulge them. The dwarf, Gimli, was held in equal measure as the elder Legolas, who deferred playfully but respectfully to the ‘old ones’. Elrond, Celeborn, his father, and Turgon seemed to be held in respect but not any true seat of power. Renowned but not rulers. 

Glorfindel and his… wife, Beth, were again in an odd place of respect but not the leaders. One of the children, the solemn elfling, called them ‘first father and first mother’. The small elleth was referred to as ‘milk mother’ by the twins and was treated in a friendly, familiar manner by the others. Leal, her name was, not to be confused with Miwen, who was Leal’sa.

Once the majority had had their fill, he was only able to stomach a small amount of his broth the same as Turgon, the children began clamoring for their ‘brownies’ and Amelan laughed and shooed them to the ‘den’. Gil’galad thought perhaps that was the end of the ‘family dinner’, but the others began filing after the children, his father among them, and he followed out of the acute awareness he was the only one here who held any sort of fondness for him. One of the wolves, the dark grey one, rose from its corner and approached him, and Amelan sent a wisp of gold at it, silently calling it back to his side, and tilted his head again, curiosity shining in his gold tinted eyes.

The children led them back to the room with the rugs and pillows that littered the floor and everyone began dispersing among them, settling on the floor and cushions. Gil’galad balked at the thought, but Miwen gave him a sharp smile and flopped pointedly onto a cushion and was promptly sat on by the twins. 

“Oof, help! I’m being attacked!” She cried out playfully and the girls bared their teeth in mock snarls and began… tickling her. 

She was rescued by Legolas the elder, who announced that only people who were sitting still got a brownie, and suddenly there was a scuffle and he and Turgon were the only two left standing, besides Amelan, who had appeared with a plate of little cakes. 

Amelan raised an eyebrow at them but shrugged as he began passing them out. “Might be a little rich for you two right now anyway.” 

Fingon looked at them and sighed as he absently scratched the ears of one of the black wolves that had rested its head on his leg. “You might as well sit, brother. Ion’nin. Unless you wish to be climbed as a tree the moment the sweets are gone.” 

That… was something he would prefer to avoid. He sat on a nearby cushion, trying to retain a proper posture in the undignified seat. Amelan made another interested noise as Turgon huffed a laugh and sat as well, then offered them the plate of cakes. “They might turn your stomach right now, but you can have one if you want.”

They both declined, and then the youngest orc child spoke, his face smeared with the remnants of the cake. “You gonna sing, Papa?”

“I can’t, sweetheart.” Amelan laughed and sprawled onto the floor next to his wife. “I promised Babala Del I wouldn’t sing around the old ones.” 

“Mamae can sing!” One of the twins said.

The solemn elf child smiled faintly. “Yes, I remember a bit.”

Miwen looked touched as the other twin pleaded. “Will you sing for us, Mamae?” 

Miwen blinked back what looked to be tears and smiled. “Of course, sweetlings.” She pulled the solemn elfling into her lap and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before inhaling and softly beginning to sing. 

Gil’galad didn’t know what to expect but braced himself for the effects of her magic. When she had sung last the echoes of her magic had clung to all that heard, bespelling them. He had barely fought off the effects of her voice the last time… and now he was weakened and she was stronger. 

“Goodnight, my darling. Time to close your eyes, and save these questions for another day. I think I know what you've been asking me, I think you know what I've been trying to say. I promised I would never leave you, and you should always know, wherever you may go, no matter where you are, I never will be far away.”

It was as beautiful as it had been the last time he had heard her sing, silver light glowing from her eyes as she sang, but this time… the eyes of those around her began to glow as well, as if in answer to her song. Gold, green, blue… the eyes of those who used magic glowed and her words draped a spell of comforting weariness that was hard to resist. 

“Goodnight, my darlings. Now it's time to sleep and still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me, when we went sailing on an emerald bay, and like a boat out on the ocean, I'm rocking you to sleep. The water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart, you'll always be a part of me.”

The twins had both moved to sit in their father’s lap and were now blinking sleepily. All of the children were listing, and even some of those grown. Gil’galad felt his own desire to rest, but refused to fall under her spell.

“Goodnight, my darlings. Now it's time to dream and dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart there will always be a part of me…”

Her voice trailed off and she pressed another kiss to the elfling’s head. He was asleep in her arms. Amelan blinked the gold from his eyes, and then looked at him, once again tilting his head and making that noise in his throat before gathering up the small orc child and whispering. “Let’s get the wee ones into bed, yeah? Long day for everyone.” 

Gil’galad blinked. Yes, a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damon: Huh, he might actually be interesting  
> Emma: No  
> Damon: yes. Remember that horrible dog I had as a kid?  
> Thranduil: wait, you want to claim Gil’galad as one of your strays?  
> Emma: The horrible dog that bit everyone besides you and kept peeing in our shoes?  
> Thranduil: of course he had a dog like that  
> Damon: Yeah, that dog. Interesting dog.  
> Emma: If he pees in my shoes, I’m pouring it on your head  
> Damon: Fair enough.


	16. Chapter 16

Gil’galad… was interesting, and yes, beyond the fact that it was mother freaking Gil’galad. He had the same… stiff and wary air around him that Loghain had at first. Arrogant? Yes. Privileged? Yes. Very, very resentful of Emma? Also yes. But honestly… the guy reminded Damon of a younger Emma. When she was sixteen and had more pride and stubbornness than sense. 

He wanted to be respected, wanted to keep his dignity. He had resisted Emma’s magic out of sheer spite it seemed like and had been perfectly willing to stare him down even with the wary glances he had been giving the wolves. It was interesting. So of course Damon was going to try and figure the guy out. 

Fingon encouraged both Turgon and Gil’galad to train in the following days after waking, stating that it would help them both settle in with their forms faster. 

And Damon had watched with interest during his spare moments before figuring out exactly how to shake Gil’galad. The guy was inwardly seething at his position as his father’s ‘charge’ and seemed to also really believe he was at Damon’s mercy with the wolves. It had been a half joke for Emma’s amusement, but the guy had believed it. So… oops. 

Anyway, Gil’galad got all tense and wary when Damon came around, and Damon could tell at least part of it was the wolves at his heels and part of it was his ‘orc’ shape. Savage beast and all that. When the three had been training, he had come down to the training yard to observe, and after Gil’galad made a particularly interesting move with his spear that Damon could see the potential to adapt for an ax, he spoke up.

“That was impressive. Would you mind teaching me that?” 

“One would think you already well versed in the ways of war.” Gil’galad said sharply and swung his spear again, and it was amazing to see him hold off Fingon’s blade with the admittedly unconventional weapon for close quarters.

Damon grinned easily and leaned against the fence, delighted to have already gotten under his skin and knowing he was about to off balance him. “Nah, I was a farmer’s boy. Only picked up an ax about eight years ago.” 

Gil’galad’s concentration faltered and Fingon was able to touch him with the flat of his blade. Gil’galad’s jaw clenched but Fingon stepped forward to slap his shoulder, “You are still settling, this is to be expected.”

Huh… daddy issues? Gil’galad let out an irritated breath before nodding, then looked over him with a slight furrow between his brows. “A farmer?” 

“Yup. Born and raised on a farm, growing potatoes and birthing goats till I got a job as a bookkeeper. Then the sky blew up eight years ago and I picked up an ax to keep people safe.” Damon shrugged easily, keeping a self deprecating air about himself. “Had to learn as I went. Smacked myself in the face a few times.” 

All three elves blinked in shock and Fingon spoke first. “I have sparred with you and you fight like a well seasoned warrior.”

Damon shrugged. “This body was built for fighting, but not what I trained for. I prefer to make swords than use them, to be honest. But one does as one must.” 

“You smith?” Turgon asked in interest. 

Damon let some excitement creep into his tone. “Yeah! Smith, draw, knit, cook, and sew.”

“Knit, cook, and sew? Women’s arts?” Gil’galad had just a hint of mockery in his tone.

Damon cut a sharp glance at him before shrugging. He was used to the reaction, but the expression was enough to make the man set his jaw mulishly. “Why are they women’s arts? I like them and they’re useful. Anyone can learn anything, and besides, a blade can kill a man, but a well made blanket can warm a babe. If I can wield both, one to protect, the other to comfort, I’m happy.” 

“You are not concerned with being seen as soft?” Gil’galad pressed. Fingon and Turgon had both subtly moved back, sensing that Damon was after something. 

Damon laughed, lifting his hands and gesturing at himself slightly. “I’m a brutish, savage, blood thirsty ox man, ‘soft’ is the last thing people think when they see me. Besides, what do I care what people think of me? My family and friends respect me and I respect them.”

Gil’galad flared in sudden irritation, his control of his emotions slipping just enough for- “Irritatedstunganotherwound to shortened pride king of nothing and respected by none a tiny mortal has my father’s admiration while I am ignored and am looked down on by an orc what is he saying how is he seeing-” Damon blinked and pulled his sight away from Gil’galad’s emotions as it turned to panic and the man’s knuckles tightened on his spear. “Ah. Daddy issues. Thought so.” 

Gil’galad brought his spear forward, his face and voice hard even as he flared in wisps of panic and embarrassment. “What did you do to me? Get your magic away from me.”

Damon straightened and let his amicable, self deprecating presentation slide away. “I didn’t do anything besides look.” He sent a tendril of will to his wolves and they fell into position around him and Gil’galad’s eyes flickered to them for just a moment, enough for Damon to reach out and grab the blunted spear pointedly. “I have a lot of very powerful people within my lands, as well as my own loved ones. I want to know what drives you before I can breathe easy with you around my family.” 

“I have done nothing to earn your mistrust, orc.” Gil’galad tried to wrench the spear away and Damon let him. 

“Or to earn my trust, elf.” He said mildly. “I like to think the best of people, but the last time I let myself get too lax, someone tried to murder my sister, my unborn nieces, and my son.” 

Fingon sucked in a sharp breath and Damon purposefully looked away from Gil’galad and towards him. “That’s why Ash can’t speak. As a small child he took a sword to the throat trying to protect his mother and sisters.” He looked back at Gil’galad pointedly. “So surely you can understand why I am wary of a stranger.” 

Turgon’s jaw tightened and he looked down at his sword. “You have every reason to be wary.”

Ah, yeah. His nephew and sister. Damon gave him a respectful bow. “I grieve for you.” Then turned back to Gil’galad, who was gripping his spear tightly and his jaw was set. He turned and stalked to the weapon rack to forcefully put away the weapon.

Damon sighed and cast a  _ can’thearme _ barrier between the elf and them and looked at Fingon with a wry smile. “He has no respect for me, but he craves yours. Perhaps you can teach him that the wolf that hunts alone, dies alone. He can be just as much a part of the family as everyone else if he tries.” 

Fingon sighed heavily and nodded but before he said anything, the elves’ eyes were drawn to his hand as it lit up with Solas’ magic in a tug of request, then, ( _ meet us in the war room, if you would. Bring Turgon, Fingon, and the errant stray as well. _ )

He sent back a flare of agreement and looked between them, dropping the barrier. “Solas would like to see us all in the War Room for a meeting, if you all would be so kind as to follow me?” 

Gil’galad seemed startled by the sudden switch in tone and narrowed his eyes. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Damon shrugged, smiled, let a bit of acceptance wisp away from him. “I got what I needed, we have bigger fish to fry.” 

Gil’galad straightened and eyed him calculatingly, falling back into the skills that probably served him as a king. “And what exactly do you think you have ‘got’ from me?”

“You’re arrogant, rude, and spiteful, but you aren’t a bad person.” Damon shrugged. “You won’t hurt my children. Your pride is stung, but you are not malicious. It's hard going from respected king to no rank.” Damon gave him a small smile. “And you and I probably could have an amazing time playing Risk.” 

He didn’t wait for Gil’galad’s reaction before he turned to head toward the main hall, But he could hear the elf’s confused mutter of. “What is Risk?”

  
  
  
  


Solas felt like an elfling again, growing into limbs too large from their recent growth spurt. He misjudged distances, tripped, but the most annoying and humiliating had been the constant failing to make allowances for his new, or rather, old height… he struck his head no more than three times just making it to their room. Another irritation was that their bed was now too short… his feet hung uncomfortably over the edge.

He would admit that he had not thought through what reclaiming his old form would mean. He had not thought of the twins’ reaction to him until he had seen them running to greet him… he was grateful for small blessings that they had recognized this aura and accepted his new form. 

There was also the problem of no one recognizing him… he was stopped by guards no less than six times trying to reach his own quarters. Banal’ras laughed himself sick. 

He was half tempted to request his other form back but for the first time since… Well it felt right… he did not feel constricted, his aura free to breathe. He also needed his full strength for what was coming, and Emma said the smaller one now functioned as a fail safe. If he was felled, his spirit would be pulled to the form laying preserved in the crypt. Emma did love her fail safes. 

Damon, the fae, had announced that Fen'Harel was no longer hiding his true form and that was why he looked different. But he had also privately started the rumor that the wolf was his true form and he had simply shifted to a new favored elvhen form. 

His form was… weak for the first few days and all he wished to do was rest, but they did not have the luxury. His agents had finished activating the tethers he had strategically placed to stabilize the Veil… they would now act as a way to control precisely how and when the Veil would be brought down. Things were falling into place quickly, the trees spread throughout Thedas and growing quickly, the tethers in place, and now… Emma’s plan to save one she had sacrificed to spare him. 

Emma had a large paper spread out over the war table and he recognized it as very similar to the one they used to bring her back to them. Yet it was different, there were slight variations to it. Subtle but there. She noted him studying it and opened her mouth to speak just as the door flung open and Damon came in with a flourish. “Here I am! With company.”

He had a decidedly self satisfied air and Gil’galad looked… stubborn yet shaken. “I take it you found something?” 

“Yup!” Damon grinned, then frowned at the paper. “Ooh, summoning ritual?” 

Emma blew out a breath and nodded. “Yeah,” Fingon closed the door behind them all and Emma gave him a grateful look. “We’re almost ready to drop the Veil… but we can't take on all of the evanuris at once… now matter how much power we accumulate.” She tapped the drawing with a small smile. “This will isolate two.”

Damon was running his fingers over the lines of one of the diagrams on the page, and Solas saw his flare of  _ hopeshockthat’swhythey’rehere _ . “You want to try to summon Aredhel and and Eol away from the others.” He looked at her with sudden understanding. “Em, I might be able to break the binding on her.” 

Emma gave a pained smile. “You can’t break that kind of binding, Damon. We just have to take out Eol first and hope for the best. It wasn’t a chosen bond… so maybe…”

Turgon suddenly paled. “Eol?!”

“He’s one of the false ones, got his hands on Aredhel’s spirit and made her another false one.” Damon gave him a pained smile. “And actually… I might be able to free her. Between you and Sols, and a few other bonded I’ve seen, I think I can break a bond. Surgically, painful, but not wounding. Survivable and able to be healed from.” 

Solas considered it carefully. “You… would need time. Time during which Andruil was alive. Killing them while the bond is intact would wound their bonded gravely.”

“Yeah.” Damon winced. “I’d need time. And with the bond...” He glanced at the three blood relatives of Aredhel. “I would need someone to hold Aredhel down while I tried to free her because she would be compelled to go to Eol’s aid, while someone else held Andruil off without killing her before I was done. It’s… a bad plan honestly.” 

Emma smiled grimly. “I have a bone to pick with the ‘huntress’, I’ll keep her occupied.”

“As do I.” Solas kept his hands folded behind his back to hide the tension in them.

Gil’galad frowned as he moved towards the war table, drawn by the strategy. “A ritual to summon them away from the others? What does that entail?” 

“Blood.” Emma said quietly, “More specifically, the blood of three relatives of the one we are trying to sumon.”

“‘Blood of three, kept’. Ah.” Fingon hummed. “That is what your boy meant.”

“He is familiar with this type of ritual.” Solas spoke quietly, placing a hand on Emma's shoulder as she had tensed slightly. 

“So, best case scenario, we summon Aredhel and her binding to Eol drags them along as well, we subdue her while I try to cut her free and someone holds Eol off, then we off Eol for good. Worst case, we summon Aredhel but the binding doesn’t drag Eol along and… we have to end her.” Damon said grimly. 

Turgon and Fingon both looked stricken, but Solas shook his head in disagreement. "Actually… if Andruil is not brought along, you would have the time and space to work. You could work to free Ghilan’nan while we prepare for, an undoubtedly enraged, Andruil to come to us."

"You do not know which it will be?" Gil’galad questioned thoughtfully as he still studied the drawing of the circle. 

"Unfortunately, this ritual is of my own making and has only been performed once before, so… we don’t know." Emma's aura flared in guilt and pain. "But it's either try the ritual, have a slight chance of saving her, or just try to kill her." 

Turgon looked pained as he asked tentatively, "How did the… subject of the ritual fare?"

Emma raised her flesh hand with a reassuring smile. "I'm doing pretty great actually. It didn't hurt, even though I was pulled from farther away. No harm will come to her by the ritual…” she trailed off and looked down at the table. “How her mental state may be after being bound to… Eol for so long though…”

"We… need a functioning Saarebas collar." Damon said quietly. "Magebane or silencing will dull her aura and I won't be able to see to unweave them."

“I can have one of my agents retrieve one.” Solas assured him as he squeezed Emma's shoulder in comfort, he could still feel the guilt she was hiding from the others.

Damon looked around, then said heavily, "that leaves us with… will you three willingly participate in the ritual? And… will you be able to trust us to try and save Aredhel even… even if she's screaming and we have a collar on her."

Fingon blanched and Turgon shut his eyes tightly before jerking his chin into a nod. “If we have your word she will not be harmed… unless all is lost.”

"I give my word that I will do all in my power to help her and not harm her unless there is no alternative." Damon promised sincerely, placing his hand over his heart.

Gil’galad narrowed his eyes at the drawing. “How did Eöl find her?

“Same way I found you.” Emma said stiffly. “I had an idea of where to search, and I hunted the halls until I found you, passing over all others until I had what I needed.”

Gil’galad looked away at the subtle reminder that he owed Emma for his freedom. 

Damon picked up the thread of Emma’s turbulent emotions and spun it into persuasion. “Emma has put a lot of effort into trying to make sure we could help Aredhel. Thousands of years of planning, and now it comes down to… will you help us, Gil’galad?” 

“I did not say I wouldn’t.” Gil’galad snapped, “Forgive me for wanting to know more details before I involve myself in virtually untested Magics.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable.” Damon shrugged and Gil’galad blinked as if startled by his easy acceptance. 

Solas picked up the thread of the conversation. “The ritual draws on your shared blood, anchored to the earth you stand on, sending out a call that brings them to you physically. If they are dead, their spirit is summoned and a form is… possibly constructed. If they are alive, they arrive bodily. Due to the fact that Glorfindel could feel a pull when Emma was called to him, we believe that any intact bonds will possibly be affected as well.” 

“You don’t have to decide yet.” Emma’s voice was quiet. “But we will need an answer soon. I need time to prepare before the Veil is brought down.” 

This was… very important to her, to have the chance to try and save Aredhel. Solas sighed and offered Gil’galad a, hopefully, understanding look. “I can lend you my books on related magics so you can glean a better understanding of what is being asked of you.” 

Gil’galad jerked his chin in a affirmation and Damon clapped his hands together. “Right. Now that’s over with, I promised the kids pizza tonight.” He smiled and moved toward the door, opening it for everyone. “You are all welcome to join me in the kitchens for a pizza making party but if not supper is at six bells.”

“Did you ever get around to creating a clock?” Emma asked, obviously seizing on the distraction.

“No, studying some astronomy, days aren’t twenty four hours here.” Damon frowned then shrugged. “So we are stuck with the hour bells for now.” 

Emma frowned thoughtfully. “We can set up a sundial?”

“Did that. Doing some math about seasons and everything but uh, pretty sure this reality is terracentric instead so… it’s complicated.”

Emma snorted suddenly. “I’ve been here in stretches close to thousands of years at a time and it never occurred to me to do any of this.”

“That’s because I’m a big freaking nerd who is determined to figure out how to track a year when the sun travels around the earth instead of the other way around also…” Damon looked at everyone still staring at them. “Pizza?” 

As expected Gil’galad declined and excused himself first. Fingon watched him go with a frown before looking at Emma. “If he does not agree… What then?”

Emma gave him a smile. “Then we hope it works with Elrond… he’s her great great nephew… but the draw is stronger the closer the relation.”

“Or we can use Turgon as bait. Pretty sure Eöl still has a grudge there.” Damon said in a half joking manner.

“Or we can not.” Solas said dryly. “The goal is to deal with trouble, not cause it, though I know it goes against your very nature.” Everyone chuckled and Fingon and Turgon went to follow Damon to the door. 

“Are your children participating in this ‘pizza party’?” Turgon asked lightly but Solas saw him searching for something lighter, happier to focus on.

“You bet they are. More the merrier.” 


	17. Chapter 17

Rochelle could feel it, a buzzing against her palm, and if she focused, made herself  _ want _ it, will it, she could almost grasp it. It wasn’t just under her palm, it was in the air, in the ground, in the tree and those around her. She  _ wanted _ it to listen to her. Just. Listen. 

“What are you doing, lass?”

The almost tangible buzzing slipped away and she stomped her foot. “Merde! I almost had it!” 

Rain opened her eyes and frowned. “I felt it, you were drawing it to you.” She made a note in her notebook as Rochelle turned to face Gimli.

“Science.” She answered his question. “Amelan theorizes that will and magic are both branches of the same type of magic, and since the tree is magic, and I am stubborn, I’m seeing if I can affect one with the other.”

“ **She is trying to see if she can use magic without having magic** .” Ash summarized. 

Gimli raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Aye, and how is that going for you?”

“Fairly well, actually.” Rochelle said, frowning pensively at the tree. “I can feel the magic, but it doesn’t want to listen to me.” 

“And why should it?” Gimli asked, and she bristled at the question, but it was asked so simply, that maybe it was just curiosity.

“It…” She frowned. Why should the magic of the world listen to her? 

Rain chewed the tip of her quill thoughtfully. “Fen’Harel says that if you follow a request with a ‘because’, people are more likely to listen, even if it’s a silly ‘because’. People like to know why.” 

Gimli chuckled. “Aye, no one likes being told they have to do something for no reason.”

Ash’s eyes widened. “ **You have to convince it** !”

Convince… magic. Rochelle wrinkled her nose but decided to try. She put her hands back onto the tree, and then pressed her forehead to it, feeling the familiar tingle down her spine as she connected to the magic that was and was in the tree. 

She felt a little silly, but Amelan spoke and people listened… so… she reached out to the magic and began speaking, using her ‘puppy dog’ voice. “Hello magic, I would like to be able to shape you because we could do all sorts of wonderful things together. If you listen, I might be able to turn you to pretty lights or fire or songs in the air. Wouldn’t that be nice? Right now I want to make a little light, a blue one in my hand, because it would be pretty and it would make me happy.” She poured all of her intent into the words, wanting, wishing it would work, grasping at the buzzing and coaxing it. She lifted a hand from the tree and cupped it, imagining a blue light forming in the palm of her hand, turning into a solid, floating ball of self contained magic. “Please listen, it would be ever so fun and interesting to make a light, wouldn’t it?” 

And then… it worked. She blinked her eyes open and pulled away from the tree… and in her hand was a small, floating blue light. “Holy. Shit.” She felt drained and exhausted, but… she had done it!

“Language, lass.” Gimli muttered, but his voice sounded just as stunned as she felt. Pleased and proud. “I knew you could figure it out.”

Rochelle smiled and then frowned in thought, steadying herself with a hand on the tree. She really was quite tired. “But how did you know it would work?”

Gimli huffed and pulled out a pipe from his jacket. “Ya think that being a dwarf I know nothing of magic, Lass?” He asked as he lit it and took a few puffs.

Rochelle blinked… “Well, Yes.” She said honestly. “Dwarves can’t use magic.”

Gimli coughed on his pipe before frowning. “And who told you that rubbish, Lass? Of course Dwarves can use magic! How do you think we can mine and shape mithril? ‘Can’t use magic.’ What foolishness.” He huffed, obviously offended at the idea. “Our magic is practical, not showy glamours, fire or lightning. Aye, enchantments are our specialty.”

“Oh, lyrium?” But dwarves could only use lyrium  _ because _ they couldn’t use magic.

Gimli spat. He spat! “That is not magic. Using a sleeping monster’s blood and calling it enchantment. Bah!” 

Rochelle… Didn’t know what to think about that. It… made so much sense and none at all, and as Gimli put his pipe back to his mouth, she did the only thing she could think of, and stuck the little glowing ball of magic into the bowl of his pipe. He blinked at it, then picked it up and stuck it to the end of one of Rain’s horns. He nodded in satisfaction. “Should make another one and put it on the other.” 

Rain folded her arms defensively across her chest, shrinking in on herself. “I don’t want people to look at them…”

Gimli looked cheerfully puzzled. “Whyever not?”

“Because they’re broken! Someone cut them off.” 

“And you survived.” The enormous dwarf shrugged.

Rain blinked, then straightened. “I did.” She said thoughtfully, then again with a slightly proud tilt of her chin. “I did.” 

Gimli smiled brightly and winked at her. “Aye lass, ya did. Carry your scars proudly, because they show your strength.”

Rain touched her mouth with a thoughtful frown. “He healed the ones on my mouth.” 

Ash bounced slightly. “ **You can paint them on with Vitaar** .” 

Gimli hummed. “Bull has the mixture if you want it, Lass, asked him for it myself only to find it’s poison to my kind, and that is another strength…” he reached out and tapped Rain’s shoulder. Your skin can resist what would harm others. Aye, ya are strong, do not forget it.”

Rochelle looked away and sat down to rest as Rain tackled Gimli in a hug. Ash tilted his head thoughtfully at the tree and then went to press his head to it, his face scrunched up in concentration. Gimli watched in amused fascination as Ash stood there for several minutes before a small, orange light appeared in one of his hands. He immediately sat down, then laid back in the grass, his face looking absolutely exhausted, but held the light out to Rain. 

Rochelle smiled as Rain stretched out her hand and the light shaped by will alone floated towards her until it rested above her hand. “It worked!”

“It worked.” Rochelle said smugly. She might take a nap here, but. “Now… just have to… try without the tree.” 

Ash raised his hands tiredly and frowned as he signed. “ **Maybe after Veil is gone** .”

She hummed in half agreement and closed her eyes. “Maybe… I want… to be ready when it is.” 

She felt someone cover her with something that smelled faintly of pipe tobacco and fell asleep. 

  
  
  


Something had shifted since the incident in the training ring. Whatever magic the o- Damon had cast on him had made him… annoyingly friendly. The man would appear out of nowhere with invitations to the ‘family meals’, to spar, to discuss some strategy, to play Risk. Always at the least expected moment. Gil’galad had almost stabbed him when he had appeared around a corner of a hallway in the  _ middle of the night _ . 

Damon had laughed, pushed a book into his hands, and walked away, completely unconcerned his dagger point had been at his ribs moments before. 

It made no sense.

Miwen as well seemed to be making an effort to be nice to him… she stopped pointedly ignoring him at ‘family meals’ trying to include him in the conversation… he would normally make one worded answers to avoid conflict. His… Fingon had the utmost respect for the…woman, she was not Edain. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that when she was not babbling nonsense she was surprisingly sharp. How had he overlooked this when she had been in his camp? When was the table in his favor? Oh, he had seen her power… had secretly been upset he had given her to Thranduil’s care. But her brilliance… he had passed over it as mad muttering.

He had been looking through the book, one of the promised tomes on the magics of the age, when one of the children, no, two of the children, appeared in front of him. The blonde human girl that played with Miwen’s children and the orc girl who seemed to shadow her everywhere. He pointedly focused on his book, hoping they would take the hint and leave, but they just… stood there. He had read an entire chapter before realizing he had not noted a word of it and looked up at them in irritation. “Yes?” He blinked when he noticed the orc girl now had two glowing orbs of light resting on the stumps of her horns and bright red paint striped across her lips in vertical lines, as if she had sewn her mouth with it

The human girl curtsied and then held out a worn notebook. “I noticed you were interested in magical theory and thought you might like my notes on the subject. I had to learn quite a bit in a short time myself.” 

He frowned at the notebook, a child’s notes… The girl smirked. “I assure you, my penmanship is immaculate and the theory sound. I may have been learning three other languages at the time, but I made time for these.” 

“You are a child.” He couldn’t help but say. Three languages and magical theory for a mortal so young?

She shrugged. “And I accept nothing less than excellence from myself. I’ve been told I’m ‘stubborn and arrogant’.” 

“And prone to biting.” The orc girl spoke for the first time in his presence, her voice soft and heavily accented. 

“I was being kidnapped!” The human girl protested. “Twice!”

They were getting off of the main subject. “I appreciate your offer-”

“Oh, good. Feel free to annotate.” the girl said cheerfully and pushed the notebook into his hands. 

She was stubborn and arrogant and he gave her a flat look that she met evenly. He sighed and flipped the book open, and then… stared at it. It was in a language he didn’t know. “I do not know this language.” 

She frowned and leaned over to look at the pages. “Oh… it’s in Orlesian. Forgive me, that is my mother tongue.” She went to take the book back and his fingers tightened on it as he studied her. Was it a pointed jab at his lack of language and knowledge? Of his lack of belonging in this strange time? She looked up when he didn’t release the book and met his eyes steadily. “Would you like me to translate it?”

There was no reason for the child to go to such effort for a child’s notes, and no reason to offer if it had been a jab. Before he could let the book go, however, she released it, then spoke to the orc girl in the harsh, guttural language. The orc replied in kind, then lifted a necklace off of her neck and held it out to him. “It is a translation charm. It will help you understand spoken Orlesian. I no longer need it to speak with Rain.”

He took the enchanted item, surprised. Such a thing surely was valuable, the enchantments alone would be costly, but the amulet was made of a fine metal and gem and… he saw one matching on the human’s neck and hesitantly put the amulet on. The human girl smiled broadly and spoke, and there was a strange dissonance where he could hear her speaking some language that curled in the back of her throat, but he understood it in Sindarin. 

“How does it work, sir?” 

“I believe you might be able to answer that question better than I.” He said in shock. Perhaps her notes might not be so terribly useless after all. The words on the page were still incomprehensible to him though. “I still cannot read it, however.”

“Yes, unfortunately it only seems to work between speakers wearing the matching charm. I would have to read the notes aloud for you.” She gave him a wry smile, then plucked the notebook and began reading from it. “There are several sources of magic, one is the magic of the fade which only some are born connected to. One is the substance ‘lyrium’ though contact with it is often deadly. One is the rare, but possible manifestation of one’s pure will. And the last known source of magic is that of blood, though it can only be channeled by one with a magical connection.” She paused and amended verbally. “Recently I learned that one with sufficiently strong will can also bend the magic of blood.” 

He stared at her for a moment before lifting the book he had been reading previously. “You summarized the information this book has been trying to convey for five chapters, and added more knowledge.” 

She gave him a decidedly smug smile. “I am a child and thus have too small lungs to be excessively verbose.” 

The orc girl giggled and the human girl handed him back the notebook. “You may find me in the afternoons by the white tree if you want me to read it to you. Best of luck.” 

With that, she turned and left with her strange companion and he was left holding the child’s notebook. How was it that everyone in this strange time confounded him? He sighed and tucked the notebook under the book he had been pursuing, still uncertain if he should accept the seemingly sincere offer from the child. And returned to his room.

Or at least attempted to. He was called aside on the way there by Turgon, who wished to speak to him about the impending summoning ritual Miwen wished to perform. His… uncle had concerns but was still willing to trust Miwen with his…aunt's life. 

He was doing his best not to grit his teeth at the fourth mention of Miwen in as many minutes when the or- Damon’s voice called out. Gil’galad turned to see the o- man walking towards them with Fingon beside him. 

“There y’all are! Awesome, three at once.” There was a pause, during which Fingon winced, and then Damon laughed under his breath. “That is a perfect set up but… yeah Emma’d kill me.” He sighed dramatically, then fished in his pockets and came up with a pair of necklaces. One of which was a beautiful, glowing white amulet that Gil’galad admired greatly. 

He watched with surprise as Damon held the other amulet out towards Turgon. It was a red garnet that seemed to glow with a soft inner light. “For you, helps keep unwanted people out of your head.” 

He assumed the other amulet would go to… his father then, and was startled when Damon held the star like necklace to him with a bright smile. “This one’s for you. It was originally a diamond, but it reacted kinda… Weird to the protection spells and lit up. Does the same thing, just… shinier.” 

Gil’galad hesitated, looking at the… Damon warily. He had no reason to gift him anything. Strings went hand in hand with unwarranted gifts. Annatar… Sauron, had proved that. “Why?”

“Well, for one thing it is really exhausting ripping binding spells out of people and I’d rather not have to do that to you, so best to avoid one getting in in the first place. For another…” He shrugged. “Everyone should be able to keep whoever they don’t want in their head out of it. And we’re going up against some of the-” He paused, looked at Fingon for a moment, then grimaced. “I honestly can’t think of a way to describe them without at least ten different profanities.” 

“The False Ones?”

“Yeah, them. Very, very talented at laying binding spells, illusions, and whispering directly inside your mind. So…” Damon held the shining amulet out to him, uncaring that his hand had been in the air for much longer than polite. “For you. Elrond can attest that it is… extremely unpleasant to have a binding spell ripped out.” 

Gil’galad blanched at the thought of his herald… going through something like that. The ellon had been loyal and a good friend in difficult times. He stifled a sigh and took the necklace, but before he could compose a… suitably diplomatic response, Damon turned and handed Fingon a handful of glimmering gold ribbons. “Same deal, just personalised.” He said with a grin and bounced on the balls of his feet slightly. “You did wear gold ribbons, right?”

Fingon startled slightly. “How did you- Ah, Miwen?”

Damon shook his head with a sheepish laugh. “Ah… no, I have my own set of knowledge. Gold ribbons plaited in hair and stars on silver shields and circlets with garnets.” He shrugged. 

Turgon blinked at the necklace given to him and then gave a slight laugh. “That is slightly unnerving.”

“Oh that ain’t the half of it.” Damon muttered. “I know way too much about all of you ancient ones.” His eyes went distant for a moment and Gil’galad startled when he suddenly scowled. “Dammit, Emma, stop showing me up!” Fingon raised an eyebrow at him and Damon actually crossed his arms and… sulked. “She apparently found and kept all y’all’s famous weapons and wants to give them to you.” His eyes went distant again and he... smirked in a self satisfied way. “So I’m ruining her surprise. Aeglos and Glamdring await you in the war room.” 

Aeglos? His spear? Gil’galad opened his mouth to question but closed it quickly… his spear had… he had thought it lost. 

The- Damon turned and stalked off and Fingon shook his head. “Honestly, as… knowing as the pair are, they are absolute children.” 

“A notebook, two enchanted necklaces, and a spear… It has been a day for unexpected gifts.” He whispered thoughtfully. 

Fingon shrugged, looking at the ribbons in his hand with a slight smile of… fondness. “They do that often.” 

Odd, odd people. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May or may not have been written for Leaf Adrift's benefit..... 
> 
> *shifty whispering* feedz us the commentzz - A&F


	18. Chapter 18

The Veil was ready to fall, everything was in place. The trees had been planted and scattered throughout Thedas’ major cities, villages, allianages, every where he could get them to grow. 

A date had been set… ravens sent… instructions… now… now all they could do was hope… hope that it would work. That exposure to the trees would be enough to save their friends, their family of choice.

Not enough, too late, but… it had to be enough. Damon took the thought, reformed it, and wrapped it in will. It  _ would _ be enough. 

  
  
  


Josie had… she had not done something as indelicate as ‘fought’ with Alistair, but had debated the subject… but in the end she had given in. Duncan needed to be safe, and for what was to come, there was no safer place than Fenvhenan. She didn’t want to leave Alistair, didn’t want to scurry away to a hidden country and hide while he fought demons and… gods, but their son needed to be safe. 

Alister broke his image as king to help load their carriage himself, and Josie watched, fighting tears as he hugged their son, telling him he was going on an adventure with his mother, that he would play with cousins and make new friends. If the worst were to happen… this could be the last time Alistair… that Duncan saw his father. And Alistair tickled his sides until he was breathlessly laughing before lifting him up to the carriage with a kiss on his forehead. “I love you. Take care of your mother, alright?”

Duncan smiled. “I love you too, promise.”

Alistair ruffled his hair and grinned. “Good boy.” 

When he turned to her, Josie could see the fear in his eyes that he hid from Duncan. He gathered her into a hug and she felt his arms trembling. “Be careful,” he whispered into her hair, kissing her temple. “Emma and Damon won’t turn you away. Just stay there. Until I send for you.”

“You had better send for me.” She tried to make it sound playfully imperious, but it came out too shaky for that. He had to be alive to send for her.

He laughed but it was forced, not his bright easy laughter that she had fallen in love with, and he pulled away just enough to kiss her. Hard, but not passionate.. this kiss wasn’t to get her heated, no. This was a goodbye… a promise… a hope.

Andraste help them. 

  
  
  


Ash and Rochelle had been lurking by the gates to watch the steady trickle of people coming in. Most of them were strangers, a few were elves bodily dragged in by others and Papa or Babae would pull the bindings out of them. Everyone felt on edge. 

Satinalia was coming fast, barely a week away. Rochelle had grimly written a letter to her parents and sent it. Apparently she had asked them to halt any disownment proceedings until after they were sure they would survive the Fall so their holdings wouldn’t be swallowed up by the surviving nobles. 

Ash… wasn’t sure how to help. No-one should have to ask their parents that. But they sat at the gates and watched, and he wondered if she had also asked them to come here…

They saw Queen Josephine and Duncan show up, heavily guarded by Fereldon humans and looking very, very uncertain. 

Ash had dropped from the branch of the tree they had been perched in, startling Josephine badly and almost getting a spear in his ribs for the trouble. Josie was quick to wave her guard away and smiled tightly at him.

She didn’t get to say anything before Papa and Mamae were coming down the stairs, when Mamae saw them she fadesteped until she was near and instantly drew the Queen of Ferelden into a hug, ignoring the stiff guards. 

“He’ll be okay.” She said softly and Queen Josephine suddenly broke into quiet sobs.

Papa was there a second later and Queen Josephine pulled back determinedly and spoke through her tears. She said a bunch of formal words that Ash probably should have memorized by now, and Papa gave her a very tired, sad look before saying another bunch of formal words. Ash sneakily grabbed Duncan around the waist and lifted him up to the tree and Rochelle grabbed his wrists and hauled him up. They could go play while the grown ups were awkward. 

  
  
  
  


Dorian stood on the balcony of his room in his estate overlooking Minrathas. Bull was sprawled inelegantly across his bed and the sounds of the Bull’s Chargers drilling in the courtyard with the white tree Amelan had gifted to him years ago. It… was much more significant now that he knew what it did. The Champion of Kirkwall was in his courtyard as well, grimly spending time with Krem as she tried to connect with the tree as much as she could to offset her use of blood magic.

Damon had tried to spread the trees through Tevinter, but the magisterium was too suspicious and stubborn to allow it. There were scarcely a handful throughout the entire country, and most of them within slums and the more remote villages. ‘Mages should survive’, Solas had reassured him, ‘except those that use blood magic regularly as it weakens their connection to the fade’. 

Well. That just about wiped out his political rivals, didn’t it? Mae would live. She had a tree in her own estate and was a talented mage. Between himself, Felix, and Mae, they should be able to handle the aftermath of the Tevene leadership being effectively exterminated. 

He’d worry about Seheron, but Damon had that same, grim, haggard expression when asked about the chance of invasion from Par Vollen as he had when asked how many of the Qunari might survive. The Qun was even more suspicious of Fenvhenan than Tevene. 

Adaar and her band of mercenaries resided in Felix’s courtyard. A handful of qunari that might live. 

Fasta Vass. This was bad but… he looked back at where Bull slept… Bull had more of a chance than most non mage Qunari… but, no the big brute would survive. 

He was too important not to.

  
  


Varric rubbed his temples again. Another ship of tal vashoth. He wasn’t sure how Blot had gotten word all the way to Par Vollen, but ship after ship of tal vashoth had been showing up and it was… a headache and a half to handle. The city was panicking, he had to set a guard around the clock against vandals trying to burn the white tree, but the ships full of qunari kids and haggard, scarred tamrassans kept showing up. 

Varric had felt like being sick the first time a ship had shown up with Qunari sails and colors. He had marched out to diplomatically tell them to fuck off for everyone’s sake, but a thin qunari woman with one horn recently broken and her hands badly burnt had… dropped to her knees in front of him and had begged sanctuary for the ship’s passengers. Apparently Blot had stepped up his ‘kidnap the saarebas’ plan into ‘convince the tamrassans that sailing to Kirkwall was the only way to save the kids’. 

So now he had shacks and tents and way, way too many qunari kids staring at him and staring at the tree, and everytime he looked at them all he could think of was the ones left in Par Vollen that were most likely going to die. Blot’s people came in the night through the hidden mirrors and spirited away what they could back to the relative safety of Fenvhenan but...

There weren’t any White Trees in the Qun. 

  
  
  
  


Vivienne was tired. Not that she could ever admit such a thing, no, she was as outwardly calm and collected as ever as she tried to handle her meager yet panicking college of mages. She thought she had trained them better than this. 

She had gathered the last remnants of the Templar Order, a bare handful of loyal Templars to stand watch over a bare handful of mages as the veil fell and demons were released. She… prayed it would be enough. 

She ordered her college, left a few last minute instructions with the Templars, and… went to sit with Bastien. Damon had been clinically brutal when he had laid out Bastien’s chances, just as she had asked him to be. Even… even with the tree outside her window, Bastien’s heart was… She took his hand and squeezed it. His heart may be too weak.

There was an urgent knock on the door and she composed herself before rising to answer yet another question she had already answered before. 

She rather missed the days when Damon had handled this sort of thing.

  
  


Cullen watched as Kenny ran through sword drills under the white tree Damon had sent to them as a wintersend gift, along with a handful of mages to speed its growth and help heal the recovering ex templars. He had made plans… Damon had been honest with him. Templars… that thing that made them effective was their natural resistance to magic and the more effective Templars the less their chances of survival… and he had been one of the stronger Templars. Chances of his survival were slim, no matter how long he had been exposed to the tree's effects.

He felt a hand on his back and immediately relaxed, feeling Neria’s healing magic soothe through the muscles of his back. It no longer made the hair on the back of his neck raise to have magic cast on him, but his hands still shook, years after being off of lyrium, his hands still shook. 

Neria’s head pressed against the middle of his back and her hands circled his waist. He covered her hand with his own as she spoke. “Fretting won’t help.” 

“I’ve not much else to do.” He sighed, rubbing her hand. She would be alright, Kenny as well. Most of his childhood had been spent in Fenvhenan.

Neria sighed and circled around to his side, keeping her hold on his waist. “You could be spending time with your son.” 

Cullen nodded, “I will but..” he looked down at her and- Maker, if he- “If I don’t…” he sighed, unable to finish that sentence. “I want you to go to Fenvhenan. The world will be chaos and you and Kenny have a better chance-“

Neria held up a hand. “Stop. Cullen, just stop.” She took his hand in hers. “You’re going to make it. No ifs. You are.” She said fiercely.

He sighed again. “Neria, I’m a-“

“No.” Her voice was sharp, and… sure. “You will survive. You will survive because you will fight and you won’t just give up.” 

Cullen wished he could have her surety, but someone had to be realistic… wishful thinking would only hurt them, they needed to be prepared for… for the possibility. “Neria, sweetheart, you-“

Neria shook her head and squeezed his hand before pulling it to lay it flat against her middle. “No Cullen, you will survive… you will meet your child and you will. Do you hear me!? You will.” 

“He will.” They both startled and turned to find Cole staring at them with his unnerving pale eyes. “I can help.”

  
  
  
  


Leliana carefully set aside the mantle of the Divine. She could not be Divine tonight. Not… tonight of all nights. The last night the history of her faith would be believed. Emma had said Andraste was real, but had never once consented to speak more of it.

The veil would fall.

The white tree in the courtyard of the Exalted Palace felt like a funerary arrangement, stark and glimmering with the dirge of her faith. Zevran moved, softer than a cat, but with a purposeful soft scrape of his boot against the floor to let her know where he was behind her. 

He moved to stand beside her and he was chewing on a stem of the tree and the absurdity of it shook her from her dour thoughts. “What are you doing?” 

“It makes my tongue numb.” He said then blinked. “And tingling at the same time. Damon swore Solas knew how to make wine from it.” He laughed and tossed the twig aside before moving to hold her. “I may be able to make something a bit stronger myself. Or dry the leaves and try to smoke them.”

She sighed fondly. He was being purposefully irreverent to lend less symbology to the thing. What would she do without him? “If we both survive the Fall I will personally help you try to make a smoke from the thing.” 

He made a tsking noise and kissed her neck, “If? What is this if? If you doubt our survival, why are we still clothed?”

She hummed. “You make an excellent point, but did not think through the other side of your argument. Our clothes must stay on if I am to convince you I believe we will live.” 

Zevran smiled. “Ah, there’s my Leli.” He mouthed her neck again before humming. “And, may I remind you, I am a skilled lover and clothes are not a hindrance. Mi cara.”

She pretended to be bored. “Well, it sounds more interesting than staring at a tree at any rate.” Then put a hand to his cheek in a rare moment of blatant honesty. “I love you.” 

His eyes softened and he kissed her softly. “And I you. Come.” he took her hand and led her to her bed. “Let me worship you tonight.” 

And she did… she could worry tomorrow. 

  
  
  


Cassandra held Ant close while he slept, blissfully unaware that the world around him would be changed forever in a matter of hours. Solas was ready to guide the veil down as smoothly as possible. The ancient elves had agreed to the summoning ritual to take down two of the false gods. 

She had a sword forged with star metal. It lay safely out of reach of the children as it’s touch would burn the twins and Ant. 

In these quiet moments, she often found herself wondering how she could allow- no it wasn’t a question of allowing. The Veil would fall with or without Damon and solas’ efforts, but this way more people had a chance… a chance to live, to adapt. 

Solas… Thranduil… Fen’Harel… he was the one to create it in the first place… not the Maker as she had always believed. Oh, she still believed in the Maker and his will but… she would admit her perspective has changed drastically. How much of her beliefs were fabricated by the Chantry in their grasp for power? over mages… over non humans… if Andraste was spoken to by the Maker… surely she would not agree with them now… she had gifted the elves the Dales… and the Chantry, not an age later, took it away. 

As Damon would say, find the grain of faith in the midst of the myths of time. She thought as she combed her fingers through Ant’s hair, he looked so much like his father. 

She wondered what Anthony would say if he saw her now? Would he approve? She was happy… she was married, had a child, but she was not an ornament on a shelf. She was still a warrior. A warrior, a leader, a mother. 

Ant shifted slightly, curling into her as he dreamed, a soft smile on his face. Solas guarded all the children’s dreams and she would never have to worry over their safety as they dreamed… 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Del was spinning and Beth was knitting. Everyone around was in a flurry of activity, war preparations, magic, children, worry, trees. Beth knew the realms were about to shift, the courts were about to be realigned. She wouldn’t say she was unconcerned, but she was a little too adamant in the forces of fate to be fretting. She had her husband and her family, and her dark fae grandson had used the magic of trees and earth to save as many as he could. 

In fact, he was coming now, walking down the hallway with what seemed to be the weight of the world on his neck. He paused when he saw them, then smiled a strange smile. “Room for one more?” 

“Always.” She smiled, sliding over on the couch and pushing her basket of yarn and needles between them with her foot.

He settled on the couch and picked up a bright green yarn that Del had spun. He began casting on and something loosened in his shoulders before he spoke softly. “I used to do something like this with Ma and Da. He would be knitting and Ma would be mixing her herbs and I’d be on the floor loom knitting. Da would sing some terrible song about the three fates spinning their threads and Ma would sing some terrible song about eating the sun to see if it tasted like dust.” 

Del grimaced. “Ai, that sounds like Grandmother.”

“Short, red hair, tattoos, a very sharp grin, healing touch, and lover of chaos?” Damon held up a hand and concentrated, and a flicker of light formed into a flickering image of a human woman that looked… like… Adelle. Cody’s eyes and red hair, but that was definitely Adelle’s grand daughter. 

Del looked up and his eyes softened at the sight, and she knew by that wistful look in his eyes that he was immediately thrown into memories of their children.

Damon frowned again and another image flickered into being next to her, a man with intricately braided hair and a scar across his mouth. “Ma and Da.” He flicked his hand and the images were gone too soon and he went back to knitting what looked like a baby boot. 

She blinked away the after images of her long gone grandchildren. “Who is that for?” 

Damon smiled and opened his mouth… then frowned at the baby boot forming beneath his fingers. “I… don’t know.” He paused, then paled. “Oh… Cass is gonna kill me.” 

  
  
  


“Itsh the end of the shitin’ world.” Sera was drunk enough to be talking to the wall instead of him. “Sstupid magic sprity shite everywhere.”

Rainier gently aimed his friend in the right direction and made a noise of agreement. Sera had appeared out of nowhere one day and demanded he go on adventures with her, away from the cities. They’d spent the past year avoiding anywhere with one of those trees that made his eyes hurt to look at and made Sera clutch her head and start swearing.

They’d spent the past year helping the little people from the safety of the road, but now… now everywhere was going to be like the trees. Weird colors and buzzing and spirits everywhere. A raven had reached them… How Damon knew where to find them he didn’t want to know… the Veil was going to fall, it would be chaos… if they survived they were welcome at Fenvhenan. ‘ _ If _ they survived.’

"Shitin' magic." He agreed dourly. There was nothing he could do about magic.  _ If!  _ That thought alone deserved another drink. 

  
  
  
  


Solas breathed in the frosty air… letting the chill fill his lungs… out in a cloud of fog in the air. He looked out over the expanse before him as he stood on the highest peak of the Frostback Mountains. Skyhold, Mooncall, the Valley, The Trees glowing brightly even at this distance. 

“Are you ready?” Damon’s voice was quiet but it carried through the thin air. 

He turned his gaze away from Fenvhenan to look at him… Damon and Emma stood on the peak with him. Just them, in case the backlash was too much. “Is anyone ever ready for change, Isa’ma’len?” He remembered who he was asking, but his chaotic chosen brother seemed willing to accept the spirit of the question. “Today is both the doom of many and the salvation of others. And we are the orchestrators." he closed his eyes and breathed… Icy air filling his lungs. “You do not have to do this… it is my burden.” He doubted it would change their mind but-

"A wolf, a dragon, and a raven walk into the sky. Sounds like the start of a bad joke." Damon pointedly ignored his attempt of giving them an out. 

"They walk into the sky and begin complaining about decor." Emma tried to laugh but didn’t quite succeed and took his hand in hers, her grip tight. “It was never just your burden, it was my notebook that gave you the inspiration for your orb, the calculations… I gave them to you… the burden you try and shoulder is not yours alone, my wolf.” She paused, then added, "also, I based it off of Damon's notes so it's his too." 

"Stop going through my stuff, Em.” Damon huffed but reached out and laid a bracing hand on his shoulder. “We have your back, Sols."

  
  
  
  


Emma watched as Solas nodded, he was ready. They were going to do it. Tear down the Veil. Lives would be lost. The world as everyone here knew it would end. Chaos.

She thought back to the naive girl she was when she was first thrown into this world… that girl would have been doing everything in her power to keep this very thing from happening… funny how things change when you're not on the other side of a screen. 

She had seen ages pass, her emotions had been stripped from her too many times to count. She had witnessed horrors of war. She was bloodied; she had taken lives. She had been broken, bruised, scarred... countless times, yet she had experienced more love in the moments of peace then anyone had right to. She doubted her younger self would recognize herself, and she wouldn't change any of it. 

She looked over at Damon. Her brother had not come away without his own scars and regrets. But she could hear the song of his spirit when he let his guard drop. He was happy, he loved, he hoped. What was that saying he used to say before? It had been so long ago for her… Ah. ‘Grabbing onto happiness with both hands’. 

That’s what they had done wasn’t it? Grabbed onto that happiness. And as she, Solas, and Damon laid their marked hand atop each others, opening their bonds, linking together. The Three becoming One. The thought flashed through her mind. ‘Was it all worth it? Was all the pain, all the suffering worth it?’ 

Damon and Solas raised their free hands to the sky as she lent her power and will. 

The answer? ‘Yes. Yes, it was worth everything.’ 

And the Veil... fell.


	19. Chapter 19

It was… there was magic… everywhere. Damon felt lightheaded and distant but his skin buzzed and his bones buzzed and he could  _ taste _ the magic as it fell out of threads and into just the Is. It was different than being in the fade, it was an ocean.

“Damon.” He looked over at the sound of his name and Emma stood there next to Solas, and everything looked… sharper, clearer, colorful like… he had been looking through sunglasses this whole time. It was like the Inbetween now. 

Concern flavored the air around Emma and Solas and he looked at them and then Emma let out a breath that was colored with understanding and amusement. “He’s just pleasantly overwhelmed with the magic.” 

Damon should make a joke but there was so much to breathe and see and there was frost pooling under his feet again. 

Solas hummed and he was amused too… it curled off of him and- “We should return to Skyhold, we only have a few hours before the Evanuris realize the change.”

“And we need to check on the kids.” Emma said softly.

Kids. Cass. He grabbed their wrists and then pulled on the world, dragging them through the magic and into the courtyard. It was far, but not so far with the magic swirling like oxygen. 

Emma made an impressed noise that curled away and then sucked in a breath at the sight of the courtyard… everyone… nearly everyone was sitting as close to the tree as they could, children in the very base of the trunk, most everyone was looking around in dazed awe and bewilderment... But some… soldiers at the very edge seemed to be struggling for breath. Damon wanted to go to them, to see if he could help, but there was an urgent call for his attention, a flare of familiar magic that just said  _ help.  _

Elrond Abelas needed help and he was- It was hard to concentrate with the pull of so much magic, emotions, thoughts, fears, but Elrond needed help and Damon felt almost surprised when he found him. But he was crouched over Rogasha and Rogasha was fading but there was-

“Oh, Celebrian.” Emma sighed and went to kneel by Rogasha, putting her hand on her head and carefully working her magic to keep a slight barrier between Rogasha and Celebrian’s spirits. 

“She was fading.” Elrond said in a panicked way he had never seen before.. but then again this was his wife… and friend.. and the magic and… Damon’s skin was buzzing. 

Emma sighed again and moved her hand to Rogasha’s chest. “And Celebrian of course wouldn't let someone die if she could help it.” She shook her head in exasperation but… it wasn’t real… Emma’s emotions… small. A ball. Tight, locked in her chest. 

Curled up defensively like a hedgehog. He put a hand on Emma’s shoulder as she worked to ease Rogasha’s spirit back into some semblance of light. 

Footsteps pounded behind them. Confused. Hurried.  _ Wherearetheywherearethey? _ “Naneth!” Damon turned to Legolas to see him followed by a very concerned Gimli and solemn Rain who were holding back a frantic Ash… and in Legolas’ arms… Pebble. 

She was feverish, gasping slightly for breath. Pebble. He moved and  _ looked _ at her, but she wasn’t fading, wasn’t dying. She… “Her body is just adjusting.” He didn’t have any healing abilities. “She will be okay but I can’t....” 

“Elrond!” Emma snapped and just like that Elrond went from panicked worry over his wife and friend, to calm healer. He moved to Pebble and placed a hand on her chest and… he was opening her airway wider… cooling her body and she relaxed.

Elrond smiled. “She will be well.” Then he looked at Legolas. “Gather all you can find that are having difficulty adjusting into one place in the caverns. I want every healer that is functional working.” He charged, taking Pebble from his arms and laying her in the nearest chair. Ash and Rain immediately went to her side, curling around her in a protective aura of  _ loveprotecthelp _ . 

Damon smiled and- his skin was buzzing, no not his skin… his pocket. Dorian’s sending crystal. He pulled it out and was immediately assaulted by curses in tevene.

“Fastsa Vass! This… this is…” Dorian’s voice was shaking.

Suddenly, Bull’s growling voice could be heard. “Hey Boss, I’m going to punch you next time I see you.”

Damon laughed, relieved they both had survived. “Fair enough.” but… “How’s things there?”

There was a beat of silence before Dorian spoke. “Too soon to know for certain, but… there are fires, most likely magic gone ary in the panic. There are… Karafas! It’s…”

“It’s a shit show, Boss.” Bull interrupted. “Once everyone is out of their shock it’s gonna be mayhem. My boys are ready to move, we can keep this city secure. Mostly secure. Hawke’s alive but sick as a dog.”

“Do your best, don’t die.” Damon was having trouble thinking beyond the buzzing in his skin, but he had to focus had to- He suddenly felt the wards around the eluvians trip, and then  _ screaming _ . Horrible, loud, screaming that seemed to be coming from directly inside his head as well as down the hallways and it didn’t stop even when he covered his ears. 

“Princess! Blot! Get your asses over here!” 

  
  
  


“Shit!” Emma cursed. Fenris. Titan blood branded into his skin and it wanted to return, was fighting for control. 

Varric was pale… the elves carrying Fenris kept losing their hold as his brands would activate wildly and he phased. One elf was pale and holding his side, obviously injured by Fenris blind thrashing 

“Tell me you can fix this, Princess!” Varric growled as they laid his friend down on the ground. 

Fenris was sweating profusely, screaming, a raw, terrified sound as he fought for his life, thrashing uncontrollably, begging for it to stop, that he’d be good, anything to make it stop. She was forced to make bonds of magic to keep him still, something he could not phase through as she unravelled the buckles of his armor and pressed her hand to the brands, his skin burning under her palm as she tried to separate the maddened song of the lyrium from his fea lines.

Varric was cursing and ran a hand through his unbound hair, a good few days worth of stubble on his face. “Merrill is dead." His voice wasn’t accusing… just tired and grieving. Maybe an unspoken 'don't let him die too'.

She closed her eyes at the- no. She shook her head. She would grieve later. Right now she needed to coax the lyrium song out of Fenris. He was writhing against the bonds she had cast to hold him, screaming as he relived terrible memories, pleading with Danarius to stop. 

The lyrium fought her, digging into Fenris’ skin, refusing to lose its hold in the elf. It was Awake. And it  _ wanted _ control. 

Behind the screams, she could hear Damon's aura growing agitated, overwhelmed by the cries of the lyrium and his aura growing protectively enraged with every delirious scream of, "Master, please!" He would be feeling Fenris emotions.

"Shut up, shut up shut up SHUT UP!" Damon yelled, his will exploding out of him in desperate anger. Emma felt the Compulsion to fall silent wash over her as everyone in the room hushed suddenly, even Fenris, even… the song of the lyrium sputtered out, leaving veins of dead stone in his skin that crumbled and left raw wounds that were simple to heal without a scar. 

Emma cleansed the stone from him and healed Fenris, who was now gasping shaky breaths. As soon as she released the bonds that held him, he curled in on himself as tears streaked down his face. She sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration with herself. “Why didn't I just think to… silence it?"

There was a flare of reassurance from Solas, but before he could verbalize what he was thinking, Gil'galad appeared, fully armored and his spear in hand. He looked over them all before speaking. "Fingon and Turgon await in the valley. You said we do not have much time. We should move." Emma kept her face passive, but inwardly she was reeling by his sudden change of countenance. "Elrond, take everyone to the caverns." 

Elrond nodded and picked up Rogasha and Celebrian. He looked at Legolas. "Come, we have many to protect."

There was a flare of approval from Damon as he was collecting himself. “You're officially in charge while we're all out, so if we fall the barrier will shift to you." 

Elrond paused in his stride for the door and looked at Damon in surprise but set his face in determination and nodded. Legolas reached out and lightly touched her shoulder before following Elrond. 

Emma sighed and stood as the elves carefully picked Fenris up. “He’ll live, take him to the caverns with everyone else.” She ordered them, then turned to give Varric a small smile. “Cass, Bull, Dorian, and Hawke are still alive. Pebble, Rain, and the rest of our children are well.” 

Varric physically sagged in relief and ran both hands down his face. “Shit, Princess, this is… what about Curly? Ruffles? The-“ 

“Ruffles and Duncan are around here, I don’t have time to check on them. We haven’t heard from any of the others yet.” Damon said and handed Varric a pouch. “These are all the sending stones. We… have to go kill some gods.” 

His eyes met hers and she nodded. She was ready. 

  
  
  


Everything was bright, almost painfully so. She couldn’t think too hard on it. Cass strapped on her armor and the cold iron blade to her side. Her body felt heavy and the air made her want to cough, but… she had to go to war against self proclaimed gods. Damon, the impossible man, had slipped in his control of his magic. She was too old for another child, but… age meant less with Damon and Emma than it should. 

Damon had not wanted her to join the battle, but she had been adamant. In the end, it would not matter if… if they lost, Cass and the child would not be any safer. One blade could mean the difference, and she was one of the few able to wield the cold iron. She would think about the sky falling and the chaos… after. She would think on it after. For now… the focus was surviving. For the children, for Damon, for her family. And surviving meant winning. 

There was a knock on the door and she called for them to enter, expecting Damon or Emma come to check on her or talk her out of it. Instead, it was Beth, armored and carrying a cold iron dagger. 

“You… are coming?” The sight of the diminutive, quiet woman carrying a blade instead of her knitting was… troubling. 

“Of course.” Beth said in accented common with only the slightest face of distaste. “My husband will be there. So will I.” 

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably... while she understood her wanting to be with her husband this was hardly the place for the quiet woman who was always knitting. 

Beth leveled her a dry look that somehow made Cassandra feel like a small girl again. “I have been fae wed for many years, love, and he taught me well.” She then gave her a sharp smile. “We fae wed have to be made of steel, yes?” 

  
  
  


Anora’s sending stone, a gift from Damon, capable only of lighting up to show the other was alright, was… silent. Still silent. 

His chosen children were marching into the valley with ancient elves and their spouses at their backs to battle gods and Anora’s sending stone was still silent. Ant clung to his shoulders as he tried to keep the ‘Pups’ together in the chaos of the evacuation to the caverns. His grandchildren… His to protect as best he could. 

He was faring better than most non mages, though his stomach turned and he was sweating, he had his wits about him and he could fight if need be. 

Isy and Emy clung to both sides of his legs, their eyes wide, and Emy kept falling into blank faced silences, their eyes flickering silvergreen as they stared into the distance. Isy… 

“Can you cast a spell? One you know you can control well. Use some of the magic in you.” 

She was shaking, practically vibrating and her eyes were flickering with power. “It’s… so pretty.” She gasped, then rubbed her hands together and conjured a mage light, and then another, and another, until those filing past them into the caverns began plucking them from the air to use to light their way. Emy blinked, then shuddered and pressed her hands to a passing human with a limp, flooding them with healing magic so quickly they could do nothing more than yelp in surprise and then Loghain was gathering the kids and moving them on, deeper into the caverns. 

Banal’ras had the older children, Gealathe was humming one of Emma’s songs, trying to block out the emotions of the people around him. He had exclaimed that everything was so much louder now. Danielle had a hand on his shoulder and Leggy’s hand in her other hand.

Rochelle was walking now but leaning heavily on Ash for stability as Rain kept checking over her with her magic. Rochelle sighed and grabbed Rain’s hand when it went for her head again, holding it loosely. “We’ll all be alright, because that makes the best story, yes?” 

Loghain thought he felt the same unnerving solidness to her words that Damon had when he was absolutely certain something should be so, and so it would be. 

Anora’s sending stone was still silent.

  
  
  


Del had stood guard over his three kings as they had bled at Emma’s direction. There was a horrible burning smell and then an elleth fell to the ground in a heap of tangled white blonde hair in the middle of the circle. Damon had wasted no time grabbing the figure and putting one of the horrible collars that imprisoned one’s fea within their body around her neck. 

Turgon made a gutted noise, but there was no time to protest or feel horror at the act before the elleth began screaming in terror and rage, and Fingon and Turgon both had to hold her down as Damon’s eyes began to glow and he began working his magic with a firm, powerful, “Aredhel, peace.” 

Gil’galad was still bleeding into the ritual circle with a determined expression and Emma reached towards him with a command to stop, that it hadn’t worked, only to be thrown back by another elleth appearing, this one as dark and strong as the first was light and slender. 

“You!” Emma snarled.

The elleth took in the scene around them and growled at the sight of Damon and the others holding Aredhel, and threw out their hand, a black blade forming in their palm. “Release her.”

“Oh, I have a bone to pick with you, Huntress.” Emma snarled and swung her bare fist at the false god. 

The Huntress dodged the blow with a curl of her lip, only to be struck in the side by Solas’ sword, a glancing blow, to wound instead of kill.

“And I have one as well.” Solas’ words were quiet with rage. 

The Huntress fadesteped away a few feet, their lip curled as the wound on their side closed in a flare of healing magic. “Pride.” The dark Elleth spat. “I should have known you were behind this. Do you-“ she didn’t finish, having to dodge a stonefist Emma threw at her. 

It turned into a dance of spite, Emma and Solas moving as if they were dancing, using their bond to communicate complex plans and keeping the false one moving. Del kept his eye out for more threats as Damon worked, muttering under his breath until suddenly Aredhel bowed her back and  _ screamed _ . 

Andruil turned towards her and tried to go to her, only to be burned badly by Emma’s magic in her distraction. It turned into a true battle, Andruil lashing out at them viscously even as she tried to reach Aredhel and Emma and Solas fighting harder and harder to contain her without killing her, all while Aredhel screamed and thrashed against Fingon and Turgon’s hold. Gil’galad had joined them in trying to hold her down from her frantic struggles.

Emma and Solas both had their teeth bared as they forced Andruil away from her goal with blade and fist and once even fang. They were unmercifully exact, hurting the self proclaimed goddess as badly as they could without killing her, Emma and Solas tossing healing magic between them as finely and exactly as their blades cut into Andruil. 

There was a final, broken wail, and Andruil stumbled, her face growing sickly pale as Damon fell onto the ground with a weary, “Done.” 

Andruil  _ howled _ in rage and grief and flung herself at Damon, ripping Solas’ sword from his hands when it struck her and she did not heed it. Del blocked her sword with his own, keeping her from killing his exhausted grandson, and then-

“ _ Eöl _ !” Beth shouted, the air reverberating with her invocation. 

Andruil, _Eöl_ , came to a shuddering halt, their eyes flickering with a malevolent, blackness. Beth faced her and named her again. “ _Eöl_!” And Cass ran her cold iron sword up through Andruil’s ribs and into her heart. 

Emma moved in front of the goddess, Solas at her side, and spoke quietly. “You should never have touched Mine.” 

Solas whispered something in Emma’s language, and shoved his sword deeper into her gut, and then Cass twisted her cold iron blade, opening the wound, and Andruil fell. Solas looked down on the corpse before snarling and spitting on it. He turned away with another frustrated snarl. 

Emma immediately went to him, grabbing hold of his arm before he could continue walking. “It’s over. Solas… it's over. She’s dead. For good.” He shuddered and his shoulders sagged but instead of relief it… Solas fell to his knees and Emma’s arms went around him, her face twisting in guilt and pain.

Del stepped forward in panic that he had been injured but Damon caught his arm, shaking his head. “Not… let them be.” He winced suddenly and put a hand up as if trying to block a blow. “Emma… I’m going to shut you two out for a bit, okay?” 

Del looked back in time to see Emma nod as Solas’ shoulders started to shake as he pressed his face into her shoulder. Their pain and rage were tangible, coloring the air around them, and Damon grabbed his arm again, pulling his eyes away. “Aredhel will need help. The binding’s gone but she’s hurting. With Emma and Elrond out, you’re the best healer we have.” 

It was a dismissal, but also true. Aredhel, the one he had failed to protect so long ago, was laying on the ground with tears streaming from her closed eyes. She looked… resigned. A collar on her neck and her brothers still holding her down, and she looked resigned. He did not want to think of what Eöl might have done to her to make her feel resigned in such a state as Fingon and Turgon lifted her to her feet and began the journey to the castle. 

Beth went to him and he could feel her concern for their grandchildren but this was not something they could help with. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple before following the others. 

  
  
  


Gil’galad stood still, his eyes on where Emma and Solas were kneeling together, his eyes suddenly… understanding. And for the first time, there was no bitterness, no hint of hostility, nothing but… respect and pity. He probably had seen his share of aftermath during the war on Sauron. The others had gone back to the Castle, Cass as well to check on the children. Damon was feeling drained from the effort of pulling Andruil’s claws out of Aredhel, but he was going to sit and wait for Solas and Emma.

Gil’galad, for some reason, though the guilty and protective tint to his aura was answer enough, stood by him, his eyes flicking warily to Andruil’s corpse. Solas was beginning to slowly stop shaking when Gil’galad murmured to him. “Should we burn the body?” 

“No… leave it for the wolves” Solas spat.

“Dude…” Damon said softly. “As supportive as I am of you right now… I don’t want my wolves eating that.” 

It worked and Solas huffed a sharp, almost laugh before he incinerated the corpse, watching with a grim expression of satisfaction as it turned to ash. 

Two down.


	20. Chapter 20

Aredhel had been put into the same magic containing cell they had put Emma in when she had first come back. comfortable, nothing she could hurt herself with, with Fingon and Turgon watching over her. 

Damon, Emma, and Thranduil were still sitting watch out in the valley, waiting for some of the evanuris to come to them. Del and Gil’galad were taking shifts with Fingon and Elrond to aid them, for when the false ones attacked. Emma was sure it would be Feanor and Elgar’nan first, driven to a rash approach by the Terrible Oath. 

As of now everything was… eerily silent. Skyhold’s upper rooms and courtyard were completely abandoned. With only a few trusted ‘old ones and ancient elves’ on the walls, watching and only watching, as all had orders not to engage the false ones.

  
  
  


Loghain stared at the sending stone, willing it to light. Each heartbeat passed without the assurance that Anora was alive felt like a needle in his chest, another failure. He had done all he could but… she, like hundreds... thousands of others eschewed all things magic and likely avoided the trees.

The new queen of Ferelden suddenly let out a relieved sob as the stone clutched in her own hands lit up in a steady red glow. 

Marric’s bastard lived… Ferelden would not be thrown into chaos without a ruler. It was a small comfort knowing the country he had sacrificed so much for would not be headless and open for occupation.

Anora’s stone was still dim. 

  
  


Varric had left the sending stones with Ruffles, and Fenris with the ancient elf Damon had left in charge, and had gone back to Kirkwall to try and do what needed to be done. There were bodies to burn, fights to quell, and… the remaining guards needed to be organized and prepared to fight in case shit went down and the elven gods didn’t stay contained to Fenvhenan. 

Aveline was sick with the ‘fade fever’ as the healers were calling it. The body adjusting to the fade's overwhelming presence. Donnic was barely on his feet and he refused to leave her side, not that Varric blamed him, but this left him with only a handful of surviving guards. 

Damon had sent some of his soldiers, elves that seemed completely unphased by the magic. 

Magic that… Varric could feel.

Shit. 

This was a mess. 

  
  
  
  


Minrathous was… a mess. To put it delicately. Which was hard to do when half the city was on fire, half of the population was dead, and the surviving slaves that hadn’t been ‘conditioned’, as Damon put it, were seizing the chance to violently break for freedom. 

Which… Fair. But also stressful as  _ half the city was on fire _ . 

And Dorian had no way of telling them that they were now officially free, a ‘joke’ legislation that he had managed to sneak through that said if over half the Magisterium were to suddenly die, slavery was immediately outlawed. Lots of laughs, that.

No one was laughing now. But they were angry, and armed, and the city was on fire. 

Adaar and her band were faring well enough, their status as qunari automatically made them enemies of Tevinter, which made them friends of the newly freemen. Adaar was organizing whoever would listen to her to help fight the fires or the opportunists who were furthering the chaos. 

Bull… Bull had that blank eyed look he had whenever he was thinking of Seheron as he kept Dorian’s back safe from anyone angry enough to try and dispose of one of the last Magisters. Which… was a lot of people.

Rude. 

Hawke had pulled herself together to travel with them, using her… varied and suspect connections to randomly call out to people and convince them to join Dorian’s rapidly growing crowd of followers as he tried to somehow quell the chaos.

In fact, she had just managed to convince a group of angry elves with stolen swords to not try to kill him by using her friendship with the ‘Lyrium Ghost’. She was currently speaking urgently with the ring leader when a blonde haired human with appalling feathers on his robes that Cullen would adore, suddenly appeared from an alley with another group of rather angry elves on his heels.

The human skidded to a halt with wide eyes, and Hawke stared at him with wide eyes, and then they both yelled, pointing at the other. 

“You stabbed me!” 

“I stabbed you!”

  
  
  
  


Kenny knew that his father had been in danger from the Fall, had seen him and his mother whispering together when they thought he wasn’t watching, but he was watching. He knew… and he was scared.

The air felt weird and colorful and it hurt to breathe like when he ate the sour fruits from Antiva. Mother was fine, but father… He was sweating, shaking and pale with fever. Cousin Cole was bent over him with his eyes closed and his hands on father’s head as he murmured in a weird language. Kenny… wanted to hit something or maybe yell at something, because that helped, but he couldn’t help right now. 

All he could do was hold onto the sending crystal and wait for Mother’s signal to activate it and let the others know Father had survived. It made him scared that she hadn’t told him to yet. 

“You had better not make me lose another father.” He whispered, gripping the crystal tightly.

  
  
  
  


Gil’Galad had been standing watch over the tree for hours. Damon slept and Miwen and Thranduil sat with their foreheads pressed together, speaking silently as the three were able to do. Cassandra and Beth had returned to the tree and were waiting with their cold iron blades. The air felt… alive now, his fea less compressed and confined. He could feel the air around him with the sharp clarity as someone being deprived of their hearing for days then suddenly regaining the sense, seeming sharper and heightened than before. He would be enjoying the sensation if it were not for the wary watch he was keeping. Miwen expected the kinslayers to attack next, drawn by the tree and the lights within her and her brother. 

They were using themselves as bait. He had misjudged them… all of them. 

He felt the air ripple with a strange sense of movement, and then an old woman appeared. ‘Fade step’. Miwen and Thranduil’s eyes snapped open and they sprang to their feet with their power gathering in their fingertips. Damon was roused with a kick from Miwen and Gil’galad readied his spear. 

The old woman looked between them all with a resigned look before speaking. “They’re coming, right at my heels. I led them to you ahead of the others.”

Miwen’s lip curled. “You want our  _ mercy _ ? I know what you tried to do.” 

“I-” 

“You knew he was bonded to me!” Miwen growled menacingly, stepping forward as the women stepped back. “You knew who he was. Knew his life from before yo-”

“I kept him alive!” The old woman snapped angrily. “You abandoned him to Falon’din. I saved him. Pride should have been mine.”

“I. Did. Not.” Miwen was practically shaking with fury. “I did  _ everything _ I could and you  _ know  _ it! You were the one who trapped him!” Miwen thrust out a hand with a grasping gesture and yanked with a scream of rage. “I was  _ there _ !”

The woman suddenly cried out as a glowing orb of blue wound out of the woman’s chest and she fell to her knees with a gasp as Miwen examined it, then tossed it to Damon. “It’s a dragon. Unravel it.” 

Damon caught it and his eyes began to glow as he focused on the… that was a soul. A dragon’s soul. He was unmaking a dragon soul. 

Gil’galad barely had a chance to register his shock as the woman struggled to her feet, suddenly looking even older than before. “So I am to be unmade?” 

Thranduil’s voice was cold, void of all emotion. “Yes.”

The old woman closed her eyes. “You… should have been the one to try to take my power, Pride. It was in the threads of fate.”

“You would have possessed him.” Miwen hissed. “You of all people know… fate can be changed,  _ Telufinwë. _ ” 

The woman opened her eyes with a furious glare that turned to shock and pain as Cassandra thrust her sword through her back. There was a ripple in the air and Gil’galad moved on instinct, swinging his spear in a wide arc as he spun to catch the blade of the being who had appeared behind him. Another one of the false ones, a man who let out an enraged scream at the sight of the old woman spitted on Cassandra’s blade. 

Gil’galad was hard pressed to hold the false one at bay, he was intent on reaching Cassandra and the fallen false one. His face was twisted in grief and vengeful rage and it was his distraction that kept Gil’galad away from his blade’s edge.

“Hello, Elgar’nan.” Miwen spoke a casual greeting as if the being was not trying to get to her sister in law. “Father dearest on the way or is he here yet?” 

Her eyes glowed and the one named Elgar’nan stepped back from the fight with a frustrated growl. “You are-”

“Telperion. I know. Brother dearest has Laurelin.”

Damon raised a hand in a casual wave, not looking up from the soul that was becoming less of an orb and more of a tangled wisp of energy. Gil’galad kept his spear ready and felt a wash of magic flow from Thranduil that refreshed his muscles. 

There was another ripple of power, and then Damon threw up his hand, a golden shimmer appearing between him and the sword of another being’s sword. His other hand clenched around the soul, which… disappeared into his flesh. 

“Aw fuck, look what you made me do! Now I’m the dragon born!” Damon accompanied the words by summoning a golden ax and swinging it at the new being, who blocked it casually and eyed the magical blade greedily. 

“Your magic belongs to me, orc.” 

“Hello, June. Miss me?” Miwen sighed as she drew her longknife.

The being named as June turned his dark eyes on her before he sneered. “Meddler. You know you are my creations.”

“Pretty sure you weren't in the bedroom when things went down.” Miwen smirked and spun her dagger over her fingers. 

There was a beat of silence, and then, as most battles went, a sudden eruption of movement, blades locked and sparking, blows dodged and blows landed. Gil’galad and Thranduil fought Elgar’nan together, trying to keep him away from Cassandra, who waited with her cold iron for the being to be Named. Thranduil met the being’s magic again and again, and Gil’galad wished he had the ability to control his fea so, to lend more than just his spear to the battle. This was greater than simple blades. 

“I am Dragonborn!” Damon howled triumphantly as he and Miwen battled June, the air singing with their power clashing with his beneath the Tree. 

Miwen suddenly laughed, a fey laugh accompanied by a burst of power that made June cry out. “Hi dreh ni orin tinvaak un vun nuz krilon faan hinmaar dovah? pahlok.”

Gil’galad gritted his teeth as Elgar’nan’s sword skated along the metal of his gauntlet, bruising the flesh beneath. Why were they laughing and jesting at a time like this? 

Damon laughed just as ferally. “Oh yeah? Watch this.”

Gil’galad felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as Damon suddenly inhaled, and then…  _ shouted _ with such force it felt as if the world was weighing down on his fea with the weight of Damon’s voice and will. 

“Gol! Hah! Dov!” 

Elgar’nan’s face went white as his sword fell from his nerveless grip and he fell to his knees as if forced to them by an unseen force until he had to hold himself up from the ground with shaking arms. 

“ _ Pityafinwë _ !” The human, Glorifindel’s bonded, fell from the tree above and used the force of her falling body to ram her cold iron blade through the false one’s back, the point protruding from his abdomen. Gil’galad watched as the life and light died from the last of  Fëanor’s children’s eyes. 

June let out a terrible cry of rage and thrust out his hand, magic blasting outward and throwing Beth through the air to slam into the tree, the Cold Iron blade lost from her grip. Gil’galad rushed to her aid, even as June let out a snarl and the blade disappeared. Cassandra’s frustrated shout meant that hers had been banished as well and Damon started a litany of “Shitshitshitshit” under his breath. 

June was fury embodied. Magic crackled in the air around him as he roared, slamming his hand flat against the earth, a wall of pure stone shooting up and separating him from Damon’s view and began striding towards Miwen in vengeful fury. “You!” 

Gil’galad went to step between them but with a wave of his hand, June threw him through the air to slam into the tree’s shared trunk with enough force to make his vision blur in pain. 

June continued his advance on Miwen who stood still, not moving as the false god neared her. Gil’galad wanted to yell for her to move, get out of the being’s way, but his air would not return to his lungs. The feeling of broken ribs was not unfamiliar to him, and the way his air would not come, the slow feeling of drowning, meant one had torn a lung. Thranduil twisted the threads of the world around him and was suddenly kneeling by his side, pressing a glowing hand to his chest in a rush of pain as bones were wrenched into place for healing.

“Go- he’p her.” The words were hard fought for, but all of this was for naught if Miwen was slain by the false one.

Thranduil’s brow furrowed and the ellon looked at him in shocked surprise before shaking his head and resuming his healing. “They have it,”

Had he lost his mind? His bonded was- his thoughts were drowned out by the furious accusing screams of June. “ **_I. Made. You_ ** .” Each word was punctuated with a swing of his blade, Miwen dodging and ducking, her face a cool mask in the face of his fury. 

Gil’galad tried t o shove Thranduil's hand away, to get him to go help her, but the ellon stubbornly refused and he could only watch in helplessness as Miwen caught a blow of June sword on her longknife, keeping it at bay with her only hand. 

June took advantage of the opportunity and grasped her by the throat, savagely snarling in her face. “ **_I made you, I will unmake you.”_ ** June lip lifted in a sneer. “ **_Emma Gloria Konstantine_ ** _.” _ He spoke with an air of triumph but it quickly faded.

Despite the crushing grip on her throat, Gil’galad saw Miwen smile, blood showing in her teeth. His grip on her throat obviously strong enough to do damage. “Try again.”

“Fëanor!” Damon shouted, somehow materializing behind the false one. 

June, Fëanor’s, eyes widened in horrified realization and Miwen’s smile turned feral, her eyes glowing pure silver as glowing intertwined twists from the two trees formed from the stump of her arm, but instead of a hand, the bright twists formed a spike, glowing in pure and holy light. She rammed the spike through the false god’s stomach. 

“Y- you want th- them soo bad-ly?” Miwen forced out the question as soon as Fëanor, June’s grip slacked in his shock. Miwen pulled away from his grip and with a twist and a sharp snap, the arm of light detached from her arm of flesh and remained buried in the false one. “Enjoy.”

Fëanor’s eyes grew wide in panic and he clawed at the arm embedded in him. But as if it had a mind of its own the arm twisted and changed, smaller spikes forming, digging into the flesh and bone making it impossible to remove. 

Damon stepped to the side as Fëanor stumbled away from Miwen. Blood started to dribble from his mouth and nose, even as an acrid scent of burning flesh began to fill the air, smoke curling from where he was impaled. “You can’t-“

“ _ Curufinwë.”  _ Damon's voice fell as the sentence it was and  Fëanor’s cry of agony would haunt Gil’galad for the rest of time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Emma says: You do not even speak/talk our tongue but dare call/name yourself a dragon? Arrogance
> 
> *cheerful humming* Another one bite the dust -A&F


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence and major character death

Gil’galad was feeling a shaky sort of numbness after the duel in the valley. Dragon souls, the silmarils, Feanor and the brutal way he had died… Damon’s magic, Miwen… Thranduil’s casual use of healing magic to completely restore not only him, but also Beth and Miwen. It… was a lot to process. 

They had set a watch and gathered in Damon’s study to try and coordinate, learn who had lived and who had not, and try to prepare for the remaining false ones. The door was barely shut behind them when he spoke. “He thought he had your true name.” 

Elrond flinched slightly and Miwen suddenly reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s alright. I know what happened, and thank you, for trying to keep me safe.” Miwen turned away from Elrond and answered his non question. “My true names don’t hold me.” She smiled then added. “Not anymore.”

Damon huffed, "Of course not.” then turned to the others. “So what do we know so far?”

The queen of the nation known as Fereldon had red rimmed eyes as if she had been crying, but a firm posture and steel composure as she read from a paper. “King Alistair of Fereldon, alive. Anora Mac Tir… unknown. King Sebastion of Starkhaven… Deceased. Divine Victoria survived, her bodyguard delivered the news. Emperor Gaspard of Orlais, deceased. Ambassador Briala brought us the news herself.” Queen Josephine made a deliberate pause at that that made Gil'galad think perhaps the Fall was not Gaspard’s cause of death. 

“Madame de Fer…” The queen inhaled deeply. “Deceased. M-”

“Wait, what?” Damon looked up from his own paper in shock. “How? Surely not the Fall.”

Miwen answered. “She probably surrounded herself with the last of the Templars. Lyrium madness.” 

Queen Josephine nodded and Damon’s face twisted into an expression of accepting grief. “We warned her.”

“Cullen Rutherford has survived, as have Leal’sa’s sister and their child.” 

Sister? Gil’galad dismissed the surprise as quickly as it appeared. Of course she had a sister, probably at least a half dozen just as with the 'woodwork cousins'.

Queen Josephine began to read another name, then paused when the eluvian in the study shimmered to life and then a moment later a giant orc stepped through. No one reacted in anything besides relief, even as the… man stalked towards Damon, then drew back his fist and struck him fully in the face.

Damon staggered back to lean on his desk, holding his jaw, but huffed through the obvious pain, "I deserved that."

"Damn right you did." The orc shook out his hand. The mirror spat out a human woman who was again met with relieved expressions. 

"Hawke!" Miwen smiled, then yelped when the woman punched her with enough force to knock Miwen to the floor, Gil’galad hadn’t realized he started moving until Thranduil grabbed his arm and shook his head. Who were these people and why did on one look phased at the assault on their leaders?

Miwen frowned from the floor. "What was that for?!"

A human man with feathered pauldrons came through the mirror and Miwen let their head drop to the floor with an audible 'thunk' and covered her face with her hand with a groan. "Oh. Okay. That.

"You! You let me think I killed him!" The woman, Hawke, seethed, gesturing sharply at the man and back to Miwen.

Miwen sighed and rose, dusting off her backside dramatically. "To be fair, at the time I thought you had. I hadn't saved him yet."

Hawke did not look appeased. “And you were back six? Seven months and did not think to just once drop a line like. ‘Hey Hawke, you know that guy you tortured yourself up over his death? Yeah that guy? Well, he’s alive.’ that would have been a nicer shock than literally running into him in the middle of a fucking riot!”

Miwen winced. "It… slipped my mind? I was a bit busy planning to kill gods and digging up ancient elves?"

"Speaking of," Damon said amicably as he wiped blood from his lips, apparently perfectly fine with Hawke striking his sister. "Who is Blondie here?"

The blonde man frowned and rubbed his temples. “Blondie? Really? This is Varric all over again.”

"Oooh! That Blondie…" Damon winced. "Thank you for not stabbing my sister, Hawke. You were very restrained considering."

"Not like it would have stuck if I had.” Hawke grumbled and crossed her arms.

Erlond made an amused sound and Gil’galad was once again struck by the realization that over half of the people in this room had been dead at one point. 

Miwen sighed and looked over at Hawke, gesturing at the blond man. “If it is any consolation, he is just Anders now. Justice has been gone for some time.”

Hawke opened her mouth to say something but Lady Cassandra spoke over her. “I feel like we have deviated from the most important problem, which is we no longer have any cold iron.”

Miwen shrugged. “Well a branch from the trees worked pretty well for Falon’din.”

Gil’galad shuddered at the memory of the gruesome death the false one endured. Burned slowly from the inside out by the very thing he coveted. Thranduil made a grim, darkly excited smile. “Yes. I find myself quite eager to end Falon’Din in such a manner.”

“Speaking of,” Del spoke up from where he was looking over the map. “Where is he and how do we get him to reveal himself and Dirthamen?”

Miwen began chewing on her lip. “Bait… but I’m fairly certain he felt it when the others were destroyed, so he’ll be pretty careful.”

Gil’galad hummed. “And Dirthamen? Could we separate them?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No, wherever Falon’din is Dirthamen is at his side. He keeps his ‘twin’ on a tight leash.”

“They both know the secrets to becoming a dragon.” Miwen said lowly. “It-”

The door slammed open and a dark haired human burst in, waving a large black arrow. “Emma! What the fuck is this? It was supposed to be a legend, a family myth! But it’s right here, in my hand! I left it in Fereldon before the blight and now it’s here!” 

Damon reached for the arrow with a fascinated expression. “Nathaniel, is that a black arrow?” His fingers touched it and he hissed and yanked his hand away with a curse. “Ow.” 

Miwen suddenly gasped. “No friggen’ way! That is a Black Arrow! Where did you get it?” 

Nathaniel looked uneasily between Miwen and the slightly oversized arrow. “It has been passed down in my family since… No one really knows, just that it’s always been in our family. Cousland was given our holdings and I thought it was lost.”

Damon looked over at Miwen with an excited and awed expression. “Em? Is that-?”

Miwen walked over to Nathaniel, carefully side stepping the arrow. “Nate, I need a little bit of blood to confirm something, okay?”

Nathaniel looked uneasy at that but jerked his chin in an affirmative, obviously Miwen had earned his trust as well, and held out his opposite hand to her. 

Miwen drew a small dagger from her belt and made a small slice on one of his fingers, catching a few drops into her palm. 

“You are not about to-?” Lady Cassandra asked worriedly. 

“No, I’m not using the blood,” Miwen’s eyes began to glow and the blood began to shimmer in her palm. “I’m doing a… diagnostic basically. Blood holds stories, history forgotten in time still recorded in the small- Holy crap…” her eyes widened and she looked at Nathaniel. “How the absolute heck did he get over here?” 

Damon bounced on the balls of his feet with his fingers crossed. “Please say he’s related. I really need some good news.”

Miwen actually giggled and grinned. “Damon, I’d like to introduce you to the direct descendant of none other than Bard the Bowman. That is a genuine black arrow… also cold iron. Problems solved.”

“My life,” Damon grinned, his eyes flashing gold and a wisp of pure joy escaping him. “Is amazing.” 

Just as the words left his mouth the mirror flared to life once more and Gil’galad wondered if the odd pair were about to be punched by their friends again. The humorous thought was quickly and utterly crushed by the sight of two elves dragging a badly wounded human through the mirror. He looked as if he had been trampled by horses, on the verge of death judging by the blood bubbling between his lips with every strained breath.

“Ali!” The Queen of Ferelden nearly screamed before rushing over to where the elves laid the human down on the ground. 

“Sugar?” Damon sounded as if he had been punched and Miwen leaped towards the man with her healing magic in her fingers. “What the fuck?”

His wounds disappeared under the light of her power, and he gasped. “Falon’Din has taken Denerim. Sera… Rainier...” 

Miwen froze before slamming her first into the ground, cracking the tile underneath with a loud scream. “Motherfucking bastard son of a bitch!”

  
  
  
  


They survived. Surprising. The air was heavy and bright and it made his teeth and eyes ache. Rainier wasn’t sure if being alive right now was all it was knocked up to be. Sera was cursing up a blue streak even as they trudged through the streets of Denerim, helping put out fires and gather the dead for cremation. The alienage was the best off, the noble quarter the worst.

Rainier grunted in agreement with whatever Sera was cursing about at the moment, when suddenly there was an ear shattering ‘ _ THWOOM _ ’ from the palace. Rainier dropped the body he had been hauling out and turned to look just in time to see a pair of… dragons… descend on the palace.

“That is more like it! Dragons! I can put arrows in dragons!” Sera shook his arm eagerly and took off towards the palace, and Rainier followed closely. Dragons. Could this day get any worse?

He was barely through the gates of the palace courtyard before he was regretting that question. “I. Fucking. Hate. Undead.” He growled as the bodies they had been gathering into pyres swarmed them. He was hard pressed to keep them off of Sera so she could snipe them off.

“How many arrows?” He said over the squishy sound of beheading a dead man.

“Out.” She said, far too cheerfully. “Working on it!” 

A rock whizzed by his ear from her direction, smashing into the face of a reanimated guard. It fell like a puppet with its strings cut and Sera vaulted past him to scoop up the guard’s quiver. “We will, we will rock you!”

Alright… it was funny. Funny enough to keep them moving through the hallways into the palace to find the king. All three of them had dragon killing experience, they should hopefully be able to down two dragons. Speaking of which…

“Where are the fucking dragons?” Sera grumbled. “I have one arrow left. Find me an archer.”

He grunted in agreement and inwardly noted the fact that the undead seemed to be trickling in towards the same direction they were headed. They cut their way to the throne room, cut their way in through a splintered set of doors, and came to a halt at the sight of a of really tall elf, like Damon’s grandfather tall, grinning at king Alistair, who was held on his knees before the elf by a pair of undead. Blood was trickling from Alistair’s mouth even as he glared defiantly at the elf.

“Order your people to surrender, shemlen king, and I will grant them mercy.” The elf’s voice was dark and low and made the hair on Rainier’s back stand up. 

Alistair spat at the elf, who shrugged and pulled his sword. “Very well.”

“Cover me.” Rainier gritted and charged, hoping he would reach Alistair in time. An arrow pinged off of the elf’s barrier, splintering to nothing in front of his face. Sera’s last arrow. Shit. The elf paused and looked in her direction and Rainier managed to behead one of the undead holding the king. The king took care of the other one with the thing’s own weapon, and Rainier got his shield up in time to block the big elf’s sword strike.

The force of the blow drove him to his knees and though his shield did not crack, he felt his arm nearly break under the power of it. Sera let out a furious, agonized scream that cut off with a suddenness that made him feel sick. Magic pulled at him and Rainier was powerless to prevent himself from being lifted in the air, unable to fight against it. He saw Sera from the corner of his vision as he futility tried to kick at the elf. She was sliding off of another giant elf’s sword, blood in her mouth and streaming from her chest. He let out a broken cry at his friend’s death. To survive the Fall only for… 

Maker keep her. 

“How interesting…” the giant elf holding him helpless with his magic practically purred. “You have a touch of magic on you, something familiar…” He actually leaned in and sniffed and Rainier couldn’t get his mouth open to spit at him. “Dirthamen, my brother, this one and the shemlen king both have a trace of the Meddler’s magic on them.”

“The quickling elf as well.” The other elf spoke, his voice softer but no less terrifying.

“One might have been a coincidence.”

“But three is law.” The giant elf called Dirthamen almost whispered. “They both tried to protect the shemlen king. I would guess he might be important to her.”

Rainier felt more helpless than he had ever been as the elf holding him turned to regard King Alistair, who seemed as frozen in place as he was. “Well, well… Are you one of the Meddler’s? You might know her as…” 

“Emma.” Dirthamen said softly. “She goes by her true name in this age, Falon’Din.” 

Alistair’s eyes widened and Falon’din chuckled darkly, “That would be a yes, then. Do you know where she is? Can you reach her?”

Alistair closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly and Falon’Din laughed again. “Oh, I would have fun with that stubbornness, but fear not, I do not wish to go where she is. I have a message I need to send to her.” He made a gesture and a few undead guards dragged forward two elves and shoved them towards him. Falon’din smiled a feral smile that made his skin crawl. “Who better to deliver it than one of hers… this needs to be personal.”

Falon’Din stepped closer to Alistair and backhanded the king with enough force that Rainier heard bone crack and his crown went flying. “A crownless king, a broken friend, yes, that should do.” He suddenly kicked out, catching Alistair in the ribs and sending him slamming into the far wall. 

Alistair coughed, blood splattering out, pain written on every line of his face. Falon’din flicked his fingers in Alistair's direction and addressed the two elves that had been shoved forward. “Take your king to safety, to Emma. We will not follow.”

“She is also known as Leal’sa to your kind.” Dirthamen added, again his voice much too soft for the events transpiring.

The elves hesitated before rushing to Alistair’s side, having to release the buckle of his breastplate to allow him to breath as the thing was now caved in by the force of the blow and struggling to lift him between them. They looked at the giant elves with furious glares before dragging him through a door. None of the undead followed and the giant elves didn’t even look in the direction they had gone.

The one holding him aloft suddenly grinned darkly. “She was your friend? Ah, you don’t have to answer. I heard your pain when she died. Here… go to her.”

The magic holding him was snatched away and he fell to the ground painfully, though he pushed the pain away to reach for his sword. If he could just get one-

Sera’s legs appeared between him and his blade, the movements jerky with the tell tale sign of the undead. She would hate that, would hate that magic was touching and using her corpse like that. She had always been small, light on her feet… He shoved her- it aside and reached for his sword, his fingers wrapping around the hilt just as the blade the thing wearing Sera’s face was carrying went through his back. 

It was hard to breathe but he couldn’t… he couldn’t let them use her corpse like this. With every last ounce of will he had, he forced himself to swing the blade, cutting her- its legs out and then thrusting it through her- its heart. 

His vision was growing blurry, breath an iron flavored struggle as blood filled his lungs. Sera… He reached out and crushed the thin glass vial on her belt, not caring when his hand burnt as flames exploded and covered the body. Fire grenade. They would not use her corpse.

He felt himself yanked away from the flames and then Falon’Din crouched in front of him. 

“Fascinating.” 


	22. Chapter 22

Emma was  _ furious _ . How dare he? Her friends, her bonded, her people… she was going to  _ burn him alive _ . The ones who had brought Alistair to Fenvhenan had destroyed the eluvian behind them so the evanuris couldn’t follow, but Emma knew there was another eluvian beneath the palace, hidden. There was another one outside Denerim’s walls, so Solas and Damon were going to that one. They would fly in as dragons while Emma led Alistair, Nathaniel, Loghain, Fingon, Gil’galad, Banal’ras, and Babala with her into the palace.

Time to go burn that fucker alive. 

Falon’Din thought he had the upper hand, drawing them out of their hiding place, but he had just saved them the trouble of hunting him down. They had Nathaniel and the Black Arrow, the light of the trees, and a group of very, very angry people, most of whom knew Denerim like the back of their hand.

Alistair was almost as furious as she was. They had killed Sera and were about to kill Rainier last he saw. His city was taken by the undead.

“Time to take it back.” She whispered through gritted teeth before stepping out of the Inbetween and into the dusty cellars of the palace. 

“Well I guess the good thing about not having the Veil is that this whiplash in realities isn’t as stark.” Alister grumbled after he stepped through behind her. 

“Also means that my magic is stronger.” She said as she gestured for him to lead them up to the top of the palace. 

“Now that is a terrifying thought.” Banal’ras said cheerfully. “I believe the last time he faced you you were still weak?”

Emma nodded as Alister waved them forward. She had been magically exhausted, she and Thranduil both, when they had faced him over Elrond and she hadn’t had her link with Damon. It also hadn’t been long after they had captured Thranduil, when her aura had been shredded again, that Falon’din and June began hunting her. It was also shortly after that she confirmed his true name. The lower halls seemed deserted, blood splatter on the floors and walls where bodies should lie confirmed that Falon’din was adding to his army. 

She felt a tug on her bond with Damon and grimaced. “They’re shifting. We need to step it up.” 

They kept moving, the lack of bodies was disconcerting as it meant they were congregating somewhere else. They just got to the servants level when a growling, disembodied voice echoed out. “Welcome Emma, or do you prefer Meddler? You have so many names now it is difficult to keep up.” 

She gritted her teeth and pushed the door open in front of her, half hoping Falon’din would be behind it but, nothing, an empty hall. She ground her teeth and pushed on.

The voice chuckled. “You did not think I would make it easy for you, did you? I felt you the moment you and yours stepped through the eluvian.” When she continued on refusing to answer the voice sighed, “No matter, I am looking forward to seeing you… but first, a gift. Hmm? I seem to have something of yours.”

She barely had time to wonder what he was up to before they hurried around the next corner of the hall, and she saw Alistair step back with a gutted expression as- oh god no… Rainier… it was Rainier, with Falon’Din’s Vallaslin binding on his face and spirit. There was a rip through the armor of his breastplate where a blade had gone through it and charred scorch marks up his right arm, but he had been healed.

“Please. You have to stop me.” Rainier said brokenly even as he raised his sword and shield into an offensive stance. “Please, stop me.”

“Oh, Thom…” She reached out with her aura, trying to find the hum of the binding to try and sing it out of him. She wasn’t as good at this as Damon or Solas was, couldn’t see the threads like they could. “I have him, the rest of you, go. You know what to do.” 

Alistair gave her a pained look before nodding and heading off, leading the others to where they needed to be. Thom tried to stop them, swinging his sword at their backs, but Emma gently restrained his arm with a touch of magic. 

“Lady Emma, please! I can’t stop myself. I can feel it, burning inside me and I can’t stop it.” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m trying.” She tried to grab onto the slimy song of Falon’Din’s magic but couldn’t get a grasp on it. It seemed aware of her and she kept getting hints of taunting satisfaction each time it slipped away from her. She stepped easily aside from another swing of Thom’s sword.

“Emma,  _ please!” _ Thom had tears streaming down his face, his expression pleading and broken even as he tried to clip her with his shield. 

This was what Falon’din wanted, this was his plan, to make her kill her own friend, unhinge her enough to exploit it when he faced her. He wanted her angry and hurt, so she’d misstep. Or just to cause her pain, because that was who he was. 

After a few minutes of her trying and failing to get a read on the binding while dodging him, she gritted her teeth and summoned her magic to twist it around him until his arms were trapped by his sides. She pressed a hand to his cheek even as he struggled in his compulsion to get to her. “Rest, my friend. I will come back with Damon after we win. He knows how to free you.”

Thom slipped under her enchantment and she eased him to the floor with her magic and released him. He would sleep long enough for them to come back for him. She closed her eyes to get a read on Banal’ras… there. She fadestepped neatly to them, falling into step beside Loghain who startled and cursed. 

She gave him a sad smile. “Let’s go. We’ll need to go back for him after.” 

Loghain nodded sharply and they continued through the eerily empty hallways and up to the towers. There was a deafening roar outside that sounded like Solas and Emma sent him a nudge of reassurance and received one in turn as Alistair led them out into the open air. There was a ballista and Loghain and Alistair hurried to it to begin loading and aiming it as Emma ran to the edge to look for the dragons. 

“The white dragon is Solas and the black one is Damon. Try not to hit them.” Babala said to Alistair.

“Damon is a dragon?” Alistair cursed under his breath. “Of course he is.” 

Solas had his wings up and was facing a red dragon, circling and growling as they sized each other up in the courtyard barely big enough to hold them both. On the other side of the tower was Damon, who was pressed low to the ground of the gardens, trampling hedges and trees alike as he circled with an ash grey dragon. 

The grey dragon hissed and leaped at Damon, who… rolled onto his back and let the grey one land on him, then grabbed onto it with his forelegs and teeth and began kicking fiercely at the grey dragon’s belly with his hind claws, scraping swathes of scales off. Like… an angry cat. Effective… but hilarious.

_ Get him airborne, kitty cat _ . 

She felt Damon’s acknowledgement and turned her attention back to Solas and the other. They were still circling, feinting with quick snaps and lunges, sizing each other up. Emma caught sight of a horde of undead flowing into the courtyard and yanked on her bond with Solas.  _ Get in the air! _

Solas used his tail in a wide sweep to give himself distance and with three bounds, Solas was airborne, the red dragon that had to be Falon’din on his heels with a furious roar. He just had to get a scale loose. Damon had kicked the grey dragon, Dirthamen, she guessed, off of himself and had somehow taken to the sky, dragging Dirthamen up by his tail. Dirthamen roared and spread his wings, flying upwards and yanking his tail from Damon’s jaws. Nathaniel had his bow trained, and when the grey dragon spread itself wide to fly, exposing its belly, he loosed the Black Arrow. Emma mentally reached out, keeping the wind from it as she used her link with Damon.  _ Name him _ .

“Manwë.” Damon roared, and the grey dragon shuddered in the air just as the Black Arrow sank into its descaled gut. Damon finished him with teeth around Dirthamen’s neck, the elf dragon letting out a gurgling, horrible shriek as his throat was torn out and his fea consumed by the cold iron. 

Falon’Din let out a furious roar and abruptly spun away from his pursuit of Solas, winging directly towards them with a bout of fire that Emma had to focus on shielding them from. She felt Solas warn Damon, who rose in the air to meet him, but the red dragon dropped to Manwë’s corpse, which had shifted back to an elf form at his death, and… burnt it with dragon fire hot enough to melt… his armor… and any other metal in him. 

“Shit.” Nathaniel said succinctly. 

Plan B it is… 

Damon hit Falon’Din in the wing with some ice and Solas dove from the sky to try and get his claws into the red dragon’s wings to ground him. Falon’Din screamed and twisted and narrowly avoided the strike, gathering up his legs under him and lunging at the tower, his black eyes focused on Nathaniel. 

Gil’galad aimed his spear and threw it directly at Falon’Din’s eye, blinding him on one side and managing to throw his aim off enough that he didn’t crash directly into the tower, instead clipping it with one wing with enough force to shatter stone and make the tower list threateningly. Loghain and Alistair got a shot off on the ballista, scraping a small scale off his leg, and then they were running, racing down the stairs, Emma magically shielding them from falling rubble as Del and Fingon practically carried the human members down the stairs. 

They spilled into the courtyard and then it was a flurry of battling the undead, shielding fires, and healing the few wounds her people acquired. All while the screams and roars of dragons echoed above their heads. She could feel Solas’ satisfaction, he felt… vindicated. Damon winged down towards them, shifting into his qunari form and stumbling down beside her. He scooped up a nearby sword and began helping her mow through the undead. 

“Solas is having fun. Told me to butt out.” He explained. “Vengeance.” 

Emma threw another wall of fire up, keeping undead at bay. “Just as long as he leaves me a piece.”

“Everyone hates the god of death, we get it.” Alistair grumbled and bashed an undead with his shield. “Should we line up and take turns stabbing him?”

“A novel idea, your majesty.” Banal’ras called back and he ducked under a spear and decapitated three undead in a single swipe of his sword. “Perhaps we can draw straws as well to see who goes first?” 

Emma spared a look upwards to check on Solas, and ouch, he was definitely winning. Falon’Din was bleeding, scales torn from him and one wing was ripped, forcing him to fly out of rhythm to compensate. Solas delivered a particularly nasty looking bite to Falon’Din’s wing joint and she readied a barrier. “They’re gonna fall!” 

Falon’Din did start falling, his wing useless, but Solas dove with him, delivering bite after bite until at the last moment he spread his wings and caught himself, rising in the air even as the red dragon slammed into the courtyard, crushing half of his own undead army with his bulk and sending up a cloud of dust that sent most into coughing fits. Damon swept the dust out of the air with a gust of wind and the dragon flashed and a bloodied elven form was in its place on the ground. 

Undead immediately swarmed a protective ring around Falon’din and Solas shifted midair, dropping lightly down next to them, his aura flashing in vengeful satisfaction.. He had cuts and bruises but was nowhere near the shape the self proclaimed ‘god’.

Emma grimaced at the quickly growing horde of undead, more fallen from the city filtering in. “We need to do something about those!”

Damon nodded sharply. “Cover me, I’m gonna Look.” 

The others quickly moved to his side and kept the undead back away from him as Damon’s eyes flashed gold. Emma could hear the hum of his magic flaring and reaching as she worked on clearing the path to Falon’Din. Damon made a satisfied noise and reached out and  _ yanked _ and Falon’Din cried out as the undead suddenly stilled, then fell as if their strings had been cut. Damon swayed lightly and frowned. “That was a little harder than expected.” 

“Yes, because immobilizing an entire army of undead controlled by a supposed god with a twist of magic is supposed to be easy.” Banal’ras quipped as he patted the chest of a still standing undead, causing the thing to topple. 

“Easier than arm wrestling one anyway.” Damon hefted his sword and headed for Falon’Din, who was trying to stumble away, holding his crushed arm to his chest. Emma felt her own vengeful satisfaction at the sight and felt it echoed and returned in Solas’ aura. 

Damon caught up quickly and cut at his legs, severing the tendons to keep him from escaping. Emma and Solas moved towards him, eager to burn him inside out, when a bulky form burst out of a doorway and swung at Falon’Din. Solas barely managed to block the strike, surprised and horrified as he tried to keep them from releasing Falon’Din from his physical form.

Damon cursed and locked his sword with Thom’s blade. “Thom! Don’t try to kill him! Stop!”

“I’m trying to stop.” Thom gritted even as he kicked out his foot to force Damon to step back and free up his blade. 

“Damon, he’s been thralled! Vallaslin.” Emma had lost the tune of her sleeping spell in the battle. Damon looked sick as he carefully tried to block Thom’s attacks, his eyes fixed on the binding. 

“Em, I don’t have enough to break it right now.” 

Solas was similarly drained and she needed to save her own power to charge the arm. 

Emma cursed and turned her attention to Falon’din who was watching them with a twisted, bloody smile at watching them fight their friend. “Release him!” She growled advancing on him. “Now.”

“Or what? You’ll strike me down? Release me from my form? You have no more star metal to truly destroy me with.” He laughed mockingly, “But I am inclined to grant your ‘request’, I shall release him.” 

Falon’dins smile turned vicious and he raised his hand and Emma realized a moment too late what he was about to do. She slammed her magic into him, throwing him with a satisfying crack as his back connected to the stone wall of the castle. But it was too late. 

She had felt his magic scream out and Thom suddenly froze. Damon stepped back in horror as their friend fell, eyes open in an unseeing death stare. Thom was gone. 

“No!” Emma screamed and gathered magic into her palms and turned to the ‘god’.

“Em!” Damon's voice was the only thing that kept her tearing the fallen Ainur apart. She clenched her fist against the rage welling up in her, she could kill him yet…

Falon’din struggled to flip himself onto his back but that did not stop his triumphant laughter through wracking coughs. “Your pet... is dead, little Meddler. Though, I suppose… he was mine... at the end.” He coughed and spread his arms invitingly. “Go on. Strike… me down, kill me.” 

“There are many ways to kill a ‘god’.” Emma allowed herself to sneer as she willed her arm into the shape of a spear, filling it with the light of her magic. Damon took her other hand and she felt him pouring all he had left through their link, their magic singing and harmonizing together in bright power. She poured all she could into her arm until it burned bright enough to hurt to look at, and smiled grimly at Falon’Din’s suddenly terrified expression as she pulled it from her shoulder and held it to Solas, who took it with a grim smile that pulled his lips away from his teeth. “All yours, ma’fen .” 

Solas’ smile was ruthless as he took the spear from her hand and advanced on Falon’din, the latter trying and failing to crawl away, his back pressed against the stone wall. Weak magic gathered in his hands in a desperate attempt to defend himself but with a wave of her hand Emma dispelled it. 

“Melin emathe vindhru, i’ma melin mar nadas din. Falon’din, dara din.”  _ Names hold true, and yours will ensure your death. Friend of the dead, join the dead. _

“Melkor.” Damon said through gritted teeth, golden tears in his eyes as he knelt over Thom’s body. 

Melkor, the falon’din, shuddered in pain and terror, and then screamed as Solas drove the glowing spear through his heart. 


	23. Chapter 23

Beth was sitting beneath the Trees of Light, holding a shard of star metal that they had been given by a Dalish clan after the Fall. Cassandra had helped fashion it into a dagger for her. There was one false one left, but no one could find her, and they didn’t even have her true name. The false god was obviously laying low and the thought that she could pop up in the months or years to come was troubling.

She startled when there was a flare of light and scrambled to her feet when she saw a giant, dark haired fae standing in front of her. The woman looked… tired. Tired and sad. Beth didn’t know who she was or how she got here, but she looked so worn. “Are you alright, child?”

The woman laughed softly. “You… are very kind.” She inhaled and gazed at the trees with a terrible expression of pain. “I’m not alright. I’m the last yet again.”

Oh. ‘The last’, well shit! Beth clutched the star metal tightly, but it was useless without her name.

The woman sighed. “I… find myself glad that you are kind. Selfishly…” She sat down on the ground, still staring at the tree. “If I gave you my name, would you end me? Us? With the metal, not the light. I- he doesn’t want to burn again.” 

“I’m not… a warrior.” Beth felt confused and wary, but the being in front of her, oddly did not invoke fear in her... only pity. 

“I know, I wanted just a… I do not deserve it, I know, but I wanted a gentle end if you will give it. I waited as long as I could, tried to stay away, but it keeps calling.” The fae stared at the trees. “I… There are two of us, in a way. I found what was left of my brother and kept him within me after he burned. We… I was known as Kanafinwë and he was Nelyafinwë.”

Beth felt the tingle of true names down her spine and let out a sharp breath. “Oh…”

The fae tilted her head back and closed her eyes, shuddering slightly as Beth softly invoked her name. She was so… weary. Beth felt for her as she carefully took the being’s wrist and focused, stretching the magic that Emma was teaching her to find, and numbed the fae’s wrist. She had come to her because she wanted a gentle end, and Beth would try to give it to her. She cut through the being’s wrist and then laid the metal of the dagger against the fae’s chest.

“Cold.” The tired false one said softly. “Doesn’t burn.” 

“Go in peace.” Beth whispered, feeling nothing but pity for the being and went to stand but the false one reached out and gently grabbed her wrist, her fingers falling exactly over the fae marks on it. 

“Stay?” Her voice was small, so small for such a giant being, and Beth was reminded terribly of Cody asking to not be left alone after a nightmare.

“Oh, child… I’ll stay.” She knelt before the dying fae and the tired being lifted a hand to her face, again her hand brushing over the fae marks on her temple.

“You are very kind. Thank you.” Her hand fell to her shoulder and the marks under her shirt and her eyes focused slightly. “I would give you a blessing but I know you don’t want anything of mine.”

“Hush.” Beth tried to push aside the unsettling feeling of ‘Deja Vu’, as Adelle had once said, over the fae marks being touched so unknowingly. “Rest, child.” She pulled at the being’s arm and guided her to rest her head in her lap as she had with her children. “Kanafinwë and Nelyafinwë, rest.” 

  
  
  


Del had begun to grow worried. Beth had been gone much longer than she had said she would be. He went to look for her, following their bond and walking through the valley towards the Two Trees where she had said she would be. He saw her and then froze when he saw…

She was walking towards him with dried tears on her face, and on either side of her, hand in hand were the spirits of… Maglor and Maedhros. “Beth!” He stepped forward, drawing on his fea to try and defend her from the incorporeal threat, but she shook her head with a soft smile.

“I accidentally freed them.” She said. “They were Sylaise, but I accidentally burned away The Oath with the star metal and called them from their form.” She paused. “At least that is what Maedhros says I did.” 

“We are going with her to face Tanathe for judgement.” The fiery spirit of Maedhros said.

Ah shit… Damon was going to want to keep them. He just knew it. “And you say Emma is my fault.” He sighed. 

  
  
  
  


“But when this ‘President’ dies, how will a new one be raised if their son is not the next president?” One of the former soperati asked in earnest confusion.

“The people elect a new one.” Dorian said patiently. This was so, so much easier than arguments in the magisterium. “The people vote, all of them, and choose a new one.” 

“All people?” An elf missing one ear asked suspiciously.

“All people, elves, humans, qunari, dwarves, any other sentient thing that happens to be a citizen of Tevene. All people.” He said firmly. Damon and he had enjoyed many a long talk on this subject. 

There was a moment of silence as the people of the city stared at each other and then him, and then the elf shrugged. “Alright. I vote Pavus.” 

Wait… what? That’s not- Karrafas!

  
  
  
  


“The civil war between you all has cost more lives than even the Fall. We cannot stand aside and let this violence continue on our borders.” Solas said solemnly to the few surviving nobles gathered in the eerily vacant palace throne room.

“We will be restoring order to your nation until such a time as you can peacefully work out who has claim to the throne.” Damon said firmly. A pair of spirits hovered over each shoulder and watched the proceedings with matching expressions of fascination. ??

“Ambassador Briala will be working as liaison with us and keeping the order until such a time as you manage to work out your lineages.” Emma said with a perfectly smooth face. 

Briala cast them a dark glance but simply nodded in acceptance. She was upset she wasn’t immediately given the title of empress, but aware that they could and would simply disappear her if she caused trouble. 

  
  
  


“Ada!” Legolas groaned as Solas dropped another stack of books onto the table next to him. “I just read-“

“To truly excel you must understand the magic you wield as thoroughly as you do your own language.” He stated and tapped the stack of books.

“Or you could wing it.” Damon called out unhelpfully. “Seems to have worked well for me so far.”

“You set the tapestry on fire.” Legolas shot back and reached for a book with a sigh. 

“In all fairness, I hated that tapestry and maintain that it was totally on purpose and not an accident.” 

“Isa’ma’lin, please, your control of fire is dismal at best.” Solas rolled his eyes and sat on the sofa, the twins immediately claiming his lap. 

Damon stuck his round out at him and resumed rubbing Cass’ feet. This babe was taking a toll on her. This little one was turning out to be a little more demanding than Ant had been. The spirits of Maedhros and Maglor hovered over Damon’s shoulders, watching in fascination, Maglor, the subtle magic Damon was using and Maedhros the magical texts. Solas could see the threads of communication between the two as they shared their knowledge with the other.

Damon had been ‘fansquee’ when Beth had shown up with the spirits of the final false one, and had put them on ‘probation’ while Emma worked on singing bodies for them. The two followed Damon wherever he went, though they were apparently kept from fading by a… complex work of ‘earth magic’ where Beth had somehow claimed the pair as hers. Beth was not sure how it had happened, just said that it was ‘fated’ and had shrugged.

Gimli had been unsettled at first by the two’s presence, stating that they reminded him of the ‘Paths of the Dead.’ Emma and Damon had immediately doubled over laughing. Damon dramatically puffed his cheeks and crossed his eyes and he blew at something invisible to them. Emma’s laughter took on the resemblance of a teakettle.

At that point Legolas had also burst into laughter. Apparently that had been an accurate reenactment of Gimli. 

  
  
  
  


“Ser Amelan, surely you can see the mutual benefit this contract poses for both of our peoples.” Queen Josephine said sweetly. 

“See, I can read that, I see that, I think that, but that tone you are using makes me all sorts of wary.” Damon said, squinting at her suspiciously. 

Alistair leaned back in his seat and watched the two work with amusement. Fenvhenan and Fereldon had an officially very close alliance. Unofficially… he was glad to have his friends back. Even if Damon was now followed by a pair of elf spirits at all times… The fiery one did have a head for politics though...

“Mama said that if you sign it it means I don’t have to marry someone they pick out.” Duncan piped up from where him and the Littles were currently playing scrabble on the floor under the table. “Because you wolves don’t do arranged marriages.” 

Damon blinked, then scanned the papers again, then smiled. “Ah… tricky tricky Josie. Gimme a pen, I’ll sign.” 

  
  
  
  


Varric was exhausted. Somehow Kirkwall had become The Place to go when you wanted to move to somewhere else. He had somehow become the leading expert on citizenship papers and passports and papers and… 

Anyway. He had a lot of paperwork, and a lot of people to deal with. The surviving casteless dwarves and the displaced qunari had teamed up and headed back to Par Vollen. Most of the Qun had been wiped out, and what remained was too busy trying to clean up bodies to resist the returning refugees. 

Par Vollen was now the nation of Beresaad, qunlat for ‘Those who reach ahead’, and the dwarves and ‘kossith’ were building an incredible place. They had taken Sparkler’s idea of democracy and had elected a pair of co presidents, one an ex tamrassan, the other an ex mercenary, to lead. They were doing a great job actually. You went to Par Vollen to learn engineering and science and chemistry. They allied with Fenvhenan and Fenvhenan’s allies and the Democratic Nation of Tevene, and somehow Varric got saddled with the sorting through and arranging ships and all that shit for the dwarves and tal vashoth that wanted to go.

The dwarves below ground… were gone. No one could find any trace of them in the Deep Roads. Princess said they had been taken by the Titans, which was terrifying to think about. The Darkspawn below ground seemed to be weaker than before and didn’t taint everything around them like before. Chuckles said that they had lost their magical corruption when Falon’Din had been destroyed. Between that and Princess’ blight cure, they were quickly being eradicated as curious ‘anthropologists’ and treasure hunters scoured through the deep roads in search of history or treasure. 

Which led him to this recent problem. “What the fuck is a vaccine and why does Blot want me to help set up a registry for one?” 

  
  
  
  


Maglor found himself existing in a cloud of confusion. Nothing was as expected. They had expected to be killed when they revealed themselves, unable to fight the call of the Oath any further. The First Mother had tried to give them peace, soft and kind even as she had killed them.

Somehow… it didn’t work. The Oath was gone, their body was dead. Maedhros was somehow whole in spirit again, though they still had a bond between them, much like Leal’sa and Amelan’s. 

Amelan had not sentenced them to be destroyed… which was unexpected.

He had put them on ‘probation’ and kept them near… which was unexpected.

His children were delighted by them and wanted to hear stories and songs and learn… which was unexpected.

The Meddler was creating new bodies for them… which was unexpected.

He and Maedhros had ended up waiting outside the door when Damon’s youngest child, a half orcish girl named Esther-Keen was born… which was unexpected. 

Emma and Damon’s eldest daughter, Danielle, had become fascinated with Maedhros and the pair spent long hours talking and going over contracts and law books and Damon and Emma both simply watched with amused, fond expressions as the two grew closer… which was unexpected. 

He and Maedhros simply… existed behind Damon’s shoulders as the years passed, somehow witness to world changing events, asked for advice, occasionally had things thrown through them if they said something irritating, but never once were truly… punished for any of their past sins… Which was unexpected. 

Truly… Maglor found himself wondering if anything could ever be expected again. 

Which was why he didn’t do much more than watch in bemusement when the Stone Woman, Rochelle, stormed into Damon’s study and hauled back and punched him. She had just had her eighteenth begetting day and was engaged to Damon’s oldest son, Ash.

She slammed a stack of papers onto Damon’s desk. “You! You mother fucker!”

Damon looked at the papers and then shrugged, putting an ice covered hand to his face. “I actually didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“It says I’m the first in line for the Orlesian throne! That I’m the undisputed heir! They want to crown me!” The girl seethed.

“You are apparently the closest surviving relative.” 

Maedhros spoke up, slightly hesitant. “You also already have an alliance with Fenvhenan due to your engagement.”

“I am not marrying Ash for politics!” Rochelle whirled on his brother’s spirit form and threw a book through the space his head would have occupied had they been physical. She paused and then narrowed her eyes. “Although… that is a huge step towards equal rights in the laws… As Empress I could…” She suddenly whirled back to the door. “Rain! We have a country to take over! Legally!” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


And so Thedas passed into yet another age, their histories forgotten and remembered both coming together to remake the world. Those known as mages before the Fall slowly began to realize that they had stopped aging. The Old Ones claimed they had a fea, the fate of Elves. Those who had not been mages before remained mortal, the Fate of Men, the Old Ones remembered. But it was not as in the Before days, elves could be mortal or immortal both, as could humans, and orcs, and dwarves.

Dwarves began manifesting, though their ‘brand’ of magic was more subtle and easier wielded when enchanting… without lyrium. 

The Tanathe were satisfied with this, and continued to shape the world with their will as they lived and enjoyed their family, both found and blood. 

Maedhros and Danielle bonded shortly after he was embodied, to no one's great surprise, it had become clear over the years that the two had become enamored with each other. 

Ash and Rochelle married, jointly ruling New Orlais. Unable to have biological children of their own, they named Gaelathe as their heir, changing the laws as they needed to make it possible.

Gimli claimed Rain as his daughter, making frequent trips to Orlais with Legolas to visit her as she was the Marquis of New Orlais. 

Loghain grieved the death of Anora but was happy with his new family, loved and accepted. He also was able to punch the shit out of Cousland when he showed up at Denerim to try and weasel his way back into power. Alistair cheered from the dais as he did so and then banished Cousland from Ferelden.

Leliana and Zevran quietly and firmly led the remnants of the Chantry into the new age, overthrowing the racist and oppressive tenants and gently guiding the beliefs towards the truth. The Maker and Eru had an awful lot in common after all. 

Dorian had been elected President of the Democratic Nation of Tevene, quite unwillingly on his part, but he was dragging the country into peace and prosperity by their ears, pointed or not. He also burst through the eluvians with Bull at his heels and demanded that Emma ‘do the thing like you did with your son and his dwarf’. 

Alistair and Josie had exactly three children as that was a ‘nice important number’ and while Alistair was leader in name, he quite happily let Josephine sweetly terrify the ambassadors of other nations into beneficial deals and treaties while he enjoyed ‘looking pretty’ and spending time with the kids. Josephine was quite adept at handling the country as efficiently as she had the Inquisition, though she had much less difficulty as Alistair was not prone to ‘sudden outbursts of chaos’.

They considered raising a monument in Sera and Thom’s honor for their part in saving Alistair, but in the end they instead founded a ‘mission’ that gave out food and shelter to any and all who needed it, naming it the Freeman’s Light Mission. Their motto was ‘to help the little people’. 

Cullen survived. Through pure stubbornness on both his and his family’s part, and he tearfully held his daughter the day of her birth, naming her Dawn, the beginning of a new day… a future, bright and full of hope. As per new family tradition, only he and Neria knew her middle name. 

Varric eventually retired from being the Viscount of Kirkwall and spent his retirement years writing about Tanathe’s exploits during the Inquisition years. Everyone loved the book, saying it was his best work yet, even if it was absolutely made up and too bizarre to be true. Varric was quite entertained at the knowledge that not a single word had been fiction. 

Banal’ras never forgave Emma for pulling strings and making him the new Viscount of Kirkwall. He would occasionally send people to throw stuffed toy wolves at the walls of Skyhold, much to Tanathe’s amusement. They would send back people to throw knitted dragons. Through the efforts of Iselan and Emmaera, it became a festival of sorts. The Battle of wolves and dragons. ‘Little Ant’, as he continued to be called even when he was seven foot three, became quite wealthy through his business of selling fireworks. 

Though the reveal that Anders had not actually died had eased Hawke’s guilt, they both agreed that the previous relationship between them was long over. Anders was quite happy to move to Beresaad and help build schools for mage and non mages alike. And Hawke remained with Bull’s Chargers, not long after coming to Fenvhenan for their own ‘Soultie’ ceremony with a certain Charger. 

‘Soulties’ became widely used for mortal and immortal paired couples to remain together, and Fenvhenan soon had a thriving ‘honeymoon’ business as couples traveled to ask the Tanathe to perform the ceremony. 

Emma made physical forms for all the old ones who still remained trapped. Rogasha and Celebrian were gently separated and Elrond and his wife were once again reunited. Rogasha was very relieved to have her head to herself again as even though they had been individual, they had shared enough space for thoughts to bleed over and that made things quite awkward when your best friend’s wife is thinking very loudly in your head. 

Cole chose to continue on as he was and leave his past forgotten, though Emma did reveal his past identity to Solas. Cole began to train service animals to help those affected by disabilities, trauma, or any other reason they might need help. Maglor joined his efforts and between the two of them soon had a swiftly growing foundation that allowed them to train and give out service animals to those that needed them. Fenris recovered from the trauma of his markings turning against him, with the help of one of the first wolf dogs trained, and spent his years until retirement helping the foundation. 

Wisdom… Galadriel and Celeborn surprised no one when they both left to build their own home among the trees of the Emerald Graves. Most of the remaining Dalish clans went to them, and New Orlais was happy to cede the territory to them officially. New Lothlórien was born. 

Cassandra finally allowed Emma to tie her life force to Damon’s after finding that Esther-Keen was a mage. She wanted to see her children grow. (And keep Damon out of trouble, she said as she smacked a grinning dragon on the nose.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a work this big and expansive, this was the neatest way we could find to tie things up for a mostly satisfying ending. (without ending up writing another 800,000 words....) 
> 
> Thank you all for reading through! I hope you enjoyed the ride, I know we enjoyed making this <3 -A&F


End file.
